


Stray

by Emily_F6



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:32:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 125,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: When Ponyboy Davis moves in next door to Darrel and Sodapop Curtis, he doesn't have much hope that this town will be any different. With an abusive uncle to try and avoid, he doesn't have time to worry about making friends. But when a guy his age gets jumped and he jumps in, he might just find himself a new family.





	1. Stray

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Stray

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When my uncle had told me that we were moving one day, sticking his head into my room, I hadn't much cared one way or another. I couldn't seem to manage excitement. I'd been too worried for that. Nor would I miss my school, the one I'd been going to for a couple of years and had yet to make a friend unless you called the guys I used to run with on track and occasionally exchanged 'hello's' with 'friends. No, I was more worried about the long car ride with my uncle. It hadn't taken long to pack my stuff into my single suitcase, the one I'd taken from my mom's house to my grandfather's after her funeral. It was mostly just clothes that barely fit, a couple of sketchbooks, and the few books I'd managed to accumulate through the years. Then the moving truck had arrived two days later, and we'd loaded everything into the back, him drinking beer after beer and me doing my best to follow his orders to a T. Then, when we'd climbed in the car, him in the driver's seat and me in the back, as far away from him as possible, we'd managed almost four hours of silence, the moving van behind us, until he'd pulled up outside a ratty looking house in a neighborhood full of ratty houses. Still, it was just as nice as our last place, if not better, and either way, I wasn't about to complain.

We'd only been here a few hours and already it was starting. Of course, I hadn't expected much different. He wasn't about to change just cause he'd found a new job. New town, same Aaron. We didn't even have curtains yet, and I knew the guy next door that I'd seen pulling in the driveway around the time the movers showed up had seen him. He'd glanced over, meeting my eye through the kitchen window where I'd stood, waiting for Aaron to finish yelling at me. My mouth automatically turned up a bit, and I started to lift a hand to wave, and then the punch had come. I'd nearly been knocked flat, stumbling at the last minute and backing away desperately. Sometimes Aaron wanted me to fight back, other times I was better off just taking my licks. The only problem was, I never knew which time was which.

I wasn't even sure what I'd done. I just left my room and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. After the first hit, he'd knocked the glass out of my hand, pointing at the floor wordlessly. Of course, like an idiot, I refused to pick up the glass shards from the kitchen floor, and the second punch hadn't been unexpected after that. Then the usual. He called me useless and worthless and stupid and everything else that used to bother me but doesn't anymore. Well, I tell myself it doesn't bother me. I'm a good liar. Then he'd hit me again, the blow bloodying my lip and making my jaw ache, and I'd decided to get out of there, which was how I'd found myself in this position.

The guy I ran into was solid, all muscle and rock hard chest. I felt my heart stop, my eyes going wide as I tried to push myself off of him. Three hours in this town, and already I'd run right into some giant muscled guy. His hand grabbed my elbow, but rather than restraining me, or worse, giving me another punch to the face, he just steadied me as I took a step back onto the sidewalk. Apparently, the guy had been getting his mail...I wasn't sure why else he'd be on the sidewalk, heading toward our new house. I hadn't seen him standing there on the sidewalk, probably because I had been staring back over my shoulder, wondering if Aaron was going to bother chasing me.

"Woah there, kid." The man, because he had to be in his twenties, was bigger than my uncle, with biceps bigger than my head. It was, on closer observation, the same guy I'd seen through the kitchen window. He didn't look mean, but that didn't mean much. My uncle hadn't looked mean at first. The concern in the guy's tone confused me, so I hurried to apologize before he could change his mind.

"Sorry, sir. I'm sorry." I mumbled, trying to back away, but he held onto my elbow.

"You okay there? You're bleeding." He'd seen my uncle hit me...he had to have. Adults usually either approved of my uncle's methods, probably because they used them on their own kids, or just sort of ignored it, so I wondered which one this guy was.

I nodded, keeping my mouth shut and leaning away from him. It was the first thing I'd learned. Keep your mouth shut and things would be fine. Maybe. Probably not. His eyes narrowed and he leaned in a little, and I realized I probably had a black eye to go with the split lip. I felt every muscle in my body tense and I scooted back some more, my legs aching to run. I wasn't sure I could outrun him, but I was pretty fast. His eyes softened a little and he gave me a half smile.

"Here." He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a somewhat clean handkerchief and tossed it to me. I caught it, my hand moving on autopilot, and held it up to my mouth.

"Thank you," I mumbled, my eyes dropping to the ground.

"You sure you're okay?" His eyes moved past me and I prayed that my uncle hadn't seen a stranger being nice to me. He'd be sure to even things out again if he had. I nodded quickly to the guy, starting to hold out the handkerchief but he held out a hand.

"Keep it." He hesitated. "I'm Darrel. Darrel Curtis." I opened my mouth to say something...maybe introduce myself, despite how much I hated my name, but then I heard a door thrown open behind me. Balling the handkerchief up in my hand, I took off, sidestepping the big guy, Darrel, this time, and making straight for the road.

Thankfully there was no traffic, and I was home free. I loved running. It was the one activity I'd been involved in at my last school up until I'd had to quit. I wasn't bad, either. I was free when I ran. No way Aaron could catch me. Neither could the guys that hung around my locker and threw spitballs at me at lunch or the girl that had pointed at my clothes and laughed with her friend. I was alone when I ran. My feet pounded the pavement and I was flying, past an empty lot where some guys were playing cards, past another lot where I figured I'd end up sleeping that night, by a park I'd try to avoid, and past some railroad tracks until I found a patch of trees. It was perfect.

Stepping into the little forest, I made my way carefully around the sticker bushes and, watching for snakes, sat down right in the middle. It was the first thing I'd done when I'd moved in with my uncle...found a place to hide. Several, actually. This would be my first one in a new town. The little patch of trees was big enough to hide me, big enough so that I would hear when someone was approaching, but small enough that I could escape if I had to. I glanced up at the trees but decided that there weren't enough branches to make climbing worth it. After a few minutes of calming my breathing, I found myself wishing I'd brought a book.

I could sit for a long time by myself doing nothing. It was something of a developed skill, thanks to my uncle. Usually, when he was after me, I didn't have time to grab a book or my sketchbook before I took off. Arms folded under the back of my head, I lay back, staring up at the clouds that passed overhead and wondering how long I'd need to stay away this time. He wouldn't be in any hurry to enroll me in school, and I could most likely stay away for a few nights. Course, this wouldn't be the best place to sleep. Usually, I could find an empty lot around town, or, even better, an abandoned building and sleep there. A coat would have been nice, but I could always sneak back in when the asshole took off for work or more beer. Plus he had to sleep eventually.

I waited until it was past dark to leave my hiding spot, walking along the railroad tracks and heading out onto the main road. It seemed like a pretty small town, but I hadn't explored much of it yet. I figured I'd have plenty of time to explore, though. I passed a drive-in, wondering if I could find a way to sneak into the movie house and catch a film. I loved movies but rarely had the money for them. I didn't care to sneak in, but I was always scared that the owner would call the cops or something and my uncle would find out. He'd really beat me then.

A DX gas station was closed up for the night once I came into the town, surrounded by hardware stores and drug stores, with a few back alleys and lots that would be good to explore later. I knew there was a park nearby too, as we'd seen it on our way to the house before the moving truck had come, but I knew from experience that a lot of people my age hung out at parks at night, and I did my best to avoid people my age...and people in general. The big guy that lived next door had seemed nice enough, but I knew I couldn't count on making friends with him. My uncle would probably get to him anyway. Convince him that I was trouble and that he just did what he had to do with me after having me dumped on him. That's how he talked to people like me, like I was a stray dog he'd been left with that he couldn't seem to get rid of. I guess I kind of was.

I paused outside the house next to my new house for a minute, staring at the bright lights through the windows. I could hear someone talking inside...or a few someone's talking, all at the same time. Then someone laughed, loud enough for me to hear them from the street and I found myself grinning a little. At least someone was having a good night. For a second, I let my mind go back to the big guy, Darrel, and wondered what he'd do if I knocked on his door, asking if they had anything to eat. I was about starving. Surely they were having dinner, if they hadn't already. It sounded like they were having a party in there, with the radio going and what sounded like lots of guys all laughing.

Pushing that thought away, I decided to leave them to it. No use thinking about things like that. I wasn't gonna get any help from a bunch of strangers. Even if they were the kind of people who'd give a hungry kid food, I wasn't a charity case. No way I'd beg for food from strangers. Just the thought made my ears burn with shame.

Focusing instead on getting my stuff, I opened our front gate as slowly as possible, grateful when it didn't squeak, and walked up the path to our front door. I glanced in the window that we still hadn't covered with curtains, and which my uncle probably never would. The TV was on casting a faint glow on the couch where he was asleep, three beer bottles sitting beside him on the floor. Considering he'd been drinking since before he'd hit me earlier, I figured I was safe to sneak in. Pushing the door open as quietly as I could, I slipped inside and went straight to my room.

I grabbed my old coat from the closet straight off, then grabbed my backpack which already had a book and my sketchbook with a pencil inside. I'd spent most of the way here from Kansas reading and was pretty much finished with The Carpetbaggers by then, but I could always reread it, despite the fact that I had a feeling I was probably too young to be reading it. I'd found it in a box of my grandfather's things with some old porn magazines, which I'd put back, and an Agatha Christie book with the price sticker still on it that I'd probably read next.

I thought about getting his wallet and taking a dollar but figured that would be pushing it. If he even suspected that I'd stolen anything from him, I'd really be in for it, and I'd just taken a couple of dollars from him the week before for groceries...which we'd need again soon. Instead, I tip-toed into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of soda and then threw together a bologna sandwich, glancing into the living room every few seconds to make sure he wasn't waking up. Through the kitchen window, I could see into the kitchen of the other house, where Darrel Curtis lived. Someone else entered their kitchen after a second, a blond guy with long hair. He laughed at something, shaking his head and holding up his middle finger as he opened the refrigerator. I watched him for a second, wishing more than anything that I was in that house instead of this one.

He turned suddenly like he could feel me watching him, and I shrank back as he turned and seemed to stare right through me, even though I was sure he couldn't see me with my kitchen light out. Still, I fought the urge to duck as he continued to stare, then shrugged to himself and went back into the living room. Wrapping the sandwich in foil and grabbing a second coke, I put both in my backpack and headed back out the front door, closing it softly behind me as I made my way back out our front gate, lifting a middle finger of my own at the window where my uncle slept.

Thankfully it wasn't too cold outside, so I figured I'd be fine outside all night, especially with my coat. Come winter, I'd have to figure something else out, though. I decided that the lot where I'd seen those guys playing cards earlier would be fine, so I headed that way, past Darrel Curtis's house once more, but this time not stopping. No use thinking about that. Those people didn't want anything to do with me, and that was fine with me. If I could just survive for four more years, I'd be free. Heck, maybe just three. He wouldn't bother looking for me if I left town. When I was around, it was like he had a second sense...he'd always come after me eventually. He liked having someone around to beat up, but if I left town, I don't think he'd bother. Sometimes I thought about dropping out of school at sixteen and finding full-time work. Then I could get away from him even faster. I hated the thought of being a high school drop out though. I wasn't stupid. I actually liked school...it was the people that bugged me. Either way, I just had to take it a day at a time.

I found a flat spot in the back of the lot, away from the road, and dropped my backpack, pulling out the sandwich and tearing off half as I leaned against the brick building behind me. On the ground were cigarette butts, some only half smoked, and I wished I had a light. I rarely smoked, since my uncle didn't smoke and finding cigarettes was tough, but it was always good when I could get my hands on one. Wrapping up the other half of the sandwich, I ate the part I'd torn off slowly, washing it down with one of the sodas. Then, since it was too dark to read or even bother to draw anything, I put my backpack under my head and curled up in the grass, staring at the stars until I fell asleep, glad I'd grabbed my coat as the temperature dropped.

I was shivering when I woke up from dreams of freezing to death. Groaning as the sun started to fill the lot, I sat up, rubbing my hands together and blowing on them. I'd slept outside when it was colder before, but I always hated it. Still, it was that or spend more time with my uncle. He started his new job that day, I knew, since he'd made a big deal about needing to get to Oklahoma as soon as possible, but he didn't go in until around noon. He was gonna work at a refinery, a new factory job that paid a few cents more an hour that an old friend had found for him after his old factory had shut down. It was a good half hour drive to get there, but that meant more time away from the house for him, which meant more time in the house for me. I still didn't count on sleeping there much, but I could at least get food and shower.

A few cars drove past, probably all on their way to work, and I opened my backpack, pulling out the other half of my sandwich and finishing it in a few bites, followed by the soda. Of course, I was still hungry. It seemed I was always hungry these days. The lot was too close to the house for comfort, though, so I stood, shouldering my backpack and heading back toward the railroad tracks. It wasn't too far, and I'd say it was probably about nine when I reached the spot I'd found the day before, climbing into the little clearing where I could hide from the rest of the world and pulling out The Carpetbaggers. Vowing to grab that Agatha Christie book later, I opened it to the last chapter and finished it quickly, turning back to the start and beginning again once it was done. I had plenty of time to kill huddled up in my coat, alternating the hands I hid in my pockets.

I waited until the sun was directly overhead, sometimes putting the book down and sitting still, staring at the trees and listening to the squirrels fight and play. A few times, my fingers itched to try and put them on paper, but they were always moving, never sitting still for long enough to really draw, and I wasn't in the mood to try and draw anything from memory. Besides, if I opened my sketchbook, the first picture I'd see would be my mother. She was in all of them...a desperate attempt to remember her face, but this last one had been drawn on her birthday, and I didn't want to look at it, not so close to my own birthday. Fourteen. I'd be fourteen, and no one would care. No one had since she'd died.

When it was finally around noon, I stood, packing up my stuff again and slipping out of the clearing, making sure no one was around before emerging from the little forest. This part of town seemed pretty empty, except for the occasional car that sped by, so I stuck to the railroad tracks once more, making my way back to the house. Once more, I passed the moviehouse and thought about seeing one, then the hardware stores and drug stores where I considered slipping in and swiping a candy bar. I figured the DX would probably be a better target. The trick was always to buy something. Slip two candy bars in your pockets, buy a soda or a pack of gum. I didn't really like stealing, but that trick usually worked. Filling stations usually only had one person working inside, so it was best to go when it was crowded. Glancing at the DX, I found a group of guys out by the pumps all gathered around an old car, one of them sitting on the hood, another smoking a cigarette. Two of the guys what looked to be DX shirts on, so I figured they worked there.

I passed quickly, keeping my head down, but I still felt their eyes on me. It was a small town, smaller than the last one I'd lived in even. I'd bet they all already knew who I was, or at least that there was a new kid in town. None of them said anything to me, though, and when I glanced back, they had all gone back to their conversation, so I tried to push them out of my mind. Whoever these guys were, they wouldn't want anything to do with me.

The driveway to Darrel Curtis's house was empty, and I wondered what he did for a living, not that obsessing about that guy did me any good. What he did for a living was none of my business. He probably worked at a store somewhere around, or maybe even at the factory. I hoped not. I hoped he didn't work with my uncle. He'd been nice...the first nice person I'd met in a long time, and I hated to think of him listening to my uncle talk about his freak of a nephew. I didn't want him to think I was as awful as my uncle did.

Thankfully, our driveway was empty too, so I headed inside, making another sandwich and drinking some water as I carried the plate into my room, shutting the door behind me. I'd hear him coming, and I could slip out the window if I had to. He wouldn't be done until at least 9, though, which gave me plenty of time at home, so I unpacked the single box of my own stuff, hanging up clothes and putting away socks. I took a shower, then, and brushed my teeth, changing out of my old clothes and dropping them into my hamper. The house was already a mess, so I spent an hour cleaning up, hoping against hope that this would make him less inclined to hit me. It had never worked before, but I always tried anyway. I hated living in a dump, even if he'd bury himself in beer bottles if I left him to it.

Out of things to unpack in my own room, I finished up the kitchen, putting away the single set of dishes we had, and stared across the road into Darrel Curtis's kitchen for a while. I couldn't see that well, but they had curtains at least, and I could see a dining room table. On the stove was a skillet, and there were a few dishes stacked by the sink. That was all I could see. Giving up on that, I went into my bedroom again and pulled out my book, but that didn't hold my attention for long. I added the Agatha Christie book to my backpack and curled up on my bed, not daring to fall asleep in case I slept too long. I hadn't slept too good outside, but it wasn't like I had to get up for school or anything.

Around five-thirty, a car pulled into the driveway next door, spooking me and making me jump up from the couch where I'd been watching TV. Shutting the TV off, I hurried to the window, but after seeing a car that wasn't my uncle's, I relaxed, watching two dark-haired guys get out, both wearing shirts and hats from the DX. I wondered if they were Darrel's brothers, or maybe his friends. I didn't know if he had a wife or anything...or maybe a kid. These guys were too old to be his kids, though. I watched from my window as they walked up the front steps, then hurried into the kitchen to see if I could catch a glimpse of them inside. Staring down at the sink and pretending to do dishes, I washed a cup over and over before one of them came into the kitchen. They both had long hair that they combed back, from what I could tell, but the darker haired one was the one that went into the kitchen while I pretended to wash a glass. The other guy followed him, and, not wanting to get caught staring at them like some kind of freak, I cleaned the glass one last time, drying it and putting it away before finally glancing back up.

They were both staring at me, the darker haired one looking upset for some reason, and I wondered if he was wise to me. I don't know why I kept staring at them...it wasn't like I could hear them from my kitchen or anything. I'd have been better off watching TV. I was just curious. They all seemed pretty happy, all of them hanging out in that house together, whoever they were to Darrel Curtis. At least, I imagined they were happy. I guess that thought made me feel better, anyway. The other one, the lighter haired one, caught my eye then, grinning a little and lifting a hand while he buddy looked over at him, looking amused now, and smirked a little. I lifted a hand in a hesitant wave, smiling a little, an expression that felt almost foreign, and quickly dropped my eyes, hurrying out of view of the window and going into the living room. I didn't have any business snooping on those people, so I figured I'd better get ready to spend another night outside.


	2. Neighbors

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Neighbors

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The moving truck was parked on the street in front of the house next door when Steve and I got back to my house after work on Friday evening. We could see inside the back of the van, and the only things there were what looked like the frame for an army cot, a few garbage bags that were probably full of clothes or towels or something, and a handful of boxes with things like 'kitchen' or 'bathroom' scrawled on them in black marker. Steve glanced at me, lifting an eyebrow. "New neighbors? What happened to the old ones?"

Honestly, I hadn't bothered learning the names of the old couple that had rented the house less than a year ago. They hadn't come at the best time...had our parents been alive, they would have insisted on at least finding out their names and maybe even taking over a casserole when they moved in. But with the funeral, neither my big brother nor myself could be bothered. And it looked like it didn't matter. The old couple had moved out and whoever this was had moved into the ratty looking house with the overgrown lawn. Or, was moving in. The old couple hadn't done a great job keeping the place up, but I guess they hadn't really been able to. Maybe that's why they'd moved. I hoped they hadn't died or gone to a nursing home or nothing. Not that we would have noticed…we'd been pretty distracted lately trying to keep up with our own crap.

Two movers carried a ratty sofa inside, and a guy who looked a few years younger than our father was standing on the porch, a beer in his hand as he watched. He had his feet up on the porch rail and told one of them to watch the railing. They lugged the old sofa up the stairs and the guy took a swallow of his beer.

"No idea," I told him, lifting a hand in a half wave when the guy looked over at us. He nodded, lifting his beer as Steve and I opened our front door.

"Long as he's quiet, I guess," Steve mumbled, slamming our front door. I flinched, anticipating the yelling.

"Don't slam the door!" I sighed, kicking off my shoes. My big brother was really feeling the stress these days, what with working two jobs and trying to keep us afloat. The stress had started the night two cops had come to our house to tell us what had happened…it hadn't let up yet. They'd left us a little money, but most of that had gone to the funeral and the first house payment we'd had to take care of on our own until Darry had managed to get enough together, working as much as he could and even borrowing from Tim, for us to buy food, pay the bills, and put a little away. It helped that I was working now, but not enough sometimes.

I found him at the kitchen table, filling out bills, and I dropped my paycheck on the table beside him. Steve hovered in the kitchen doorway, looking uncomfortable, and Darry gave me a look, the hardness in his eyes dying for a minute. "Sodapop…" He started, looking sad. I shook my head, cutting him off and grinning, patting his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Dar. I've still got some money left over from last week." I knew how much he hated it that I'd dropped out of high school and that he needed my help with the money. I didn't mind though. Working full time at the station wasn't too bad. I'd hated school anyway and never could figure out why our buddy, Two-Bit, was still going at eighteen. He was still a junior, and showed no signs of ever graduating...he just liked to socialize. "You meet the new neighbor?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

He nodded, grimacing a little and putting the pen he was holding down. "Yeah." Darry hesitated for a second, and then went on. "He's got a kid." I lifted an eyebrow, glancing over at Steve who rolled his eyes.

"Great, just what we need, some snot-nosed brat moving in." Darry gave him a dark look, and I was a bit taken aback. Usually, he ignored Steve's whining.

"How old's the kid?" I asked, feeling like there was something else going on. Darry didn't dislike kids as far as I knew, but he looked like he'd bitten a lemon.

"Thirteen maybe." He shrugged, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "He about ran me over trying to get out of that house about an hour ago." Now Steve was paying attention. He mirrored Darry's posture, leaning back against the counter. I felt a knot in my stomach, feeling like I knew exactly what he was about to say. "I saw the kid in his kitchen through the window, and that guy walked up to him and slugged him right in the face. Started screaming at him...kid didn't say a word."

"Shit," I mumbled, shaking my head and sighing, running a hand down my face. This kind of thing wasn't uncommon in our neighborhood. Heck, I saw Steve flinch beside me. He had the same problem with his dad. Still, it made my stomach turn. Not once had my dad ever laid a hand on me...well, he'd probably spanked me once or twice as a toddler, but I'd always known he'd rather take a beating himself than to hurt me or Darry, or our mother. Our friends, however, weren't so lucky, and our parents had always let them use our house as a sanctuary. A safe place. "What did the kid say?" I wondered. Darry sighed.

"He said he was sorry for running into me. Then he took off. Kid's fast." He smiled a bit at that, picking up the pen again and going back to the checkbook. I left him to it, grabbing a soda and heading into the living room. Steve followed suit, dropping onto the sofa beside me after switching on the TV.

"Don't even think about it Sodapop." I lifted an eyebrow, copying Two-Bit, and he smirked. "You can't take in every stray that shows up here."  
"Took you in, didn't we?" He rolled his eyes.

"C'mon Sodapop. You really want some little kid following you around like a puppy?" I copied him, my own eyes rolling.

"Darry said he was around thirteen, not six." I reminded him.

"Did you talk to the guy? The kid's dad, or whoever he is?" Steve called, and Darry came in, a beer in his hand as he dropped into his recliner. All three of us ignored the TV. I figured the guy might be his father, or maybe a relative or even a foster parent. There were plenty of kids in foster care around, and they weren't always great homes.

"Not really. He came out of the house when the kid ran into me. Didn't look too happy. I gave the kid a rag to wipe his face off...he was bleeding like crazy."

"He say anything?" I wondered. Darry shook his head.

"Just went back…" He paused when there was a knock on our door. "Inside." He trailed off, standing and sitting his beer back on the table. He gave me and Steve a look, but I shook my head. Darry had been able to get custody of me after our parents died since I was under eighteen, and ever since he'd gotten it, I'd been careful to stay out of trouble. No way I was going to a boy's home. Steve copied my reaction, putting his drink down and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Our buddies all knew we had to be careful for a while and they all respected it, not involving me in the more…dangerous schemes they found themselves in. Mostly Dal, but the others too. The knock on the door worried me though. Nobody we knew knocked on our door...they just came in, so I wondered who this was. A social worker? I wondered if I should hide Darry's beer. Not that he wasn't allowed to drink, but still…

Darry pulled open the front door, and we all gave a start when we saw the guy moving in next door standing on our front porch. Darry stiffened a little, drawing himself up, and I smirked. He was big, and he knew it. He was only a few inches taller than me, but he'd been a real football star in high school, and now he roofed houses and went to the gym every few days, so he had plenty of muscles to show off. He could bench press me, no problem, and in a rumble, he was usually the one the socs tried to avoid. The guy that had apparently hit his kid stood almost as tall as me, but not quite, and even though he could probably hold his own in a fight, especially against a kid that wouldn't hit back, I thought bitterly, he was no match for my big brother. Not many people were. And if he did try to hit my brother, Steve and I were ready to back him up.

"Can I help you?" Darry asked coolly, crossing his arms. The guy glanced over at us, his eyes passing over me and Steve on the couch before going back to Darry. Normally my brother wasn't rude, and when neighbors would stop by for any reason, he'd be friendly. But he'd watched this guy punch a thirteen-year-old kid in the face, so I didn't blame him. I already disliked the guy too.

"I'm Aaron Davis...I'm moving in next door." Darry nodded, apparently taking in that information, but didn't offer his own name or a hand to shake. "I'm looking for my nephew. He here?"

I glanced over at Steve and found his worry mirrored my own, despite his insistence that he didn't like kids, with 'kids' meaning anyone younger than him. Well, except for Johnny, but Johnny didn't count. That was only a year or so. We'd always offered our friends the couch or the recliner to sleep in if they needed to get away from their parents, and their parents never came here looking for them. It was like an unspoken agreement...whenever they were out of the house, their parents didn't care what they did. Apparently, this was the kind of guy that came looking. "Your nephew?" Darry asked.

"Yeah. Ran into you earlier. Bleeding all over the place...I guess he hit his nose on the door or something. Damn kid's always running into something."

"Looked like he ran into your fist," Darry observed, his voice still cold. I glared at the guy when he glanced over at me.

"What I do with that kid ain't none of your business. Little shit deserves whatever he gets. He here, or what?" Darry thought for a second, then shook his head.

"No. He isn't here. But if I see him, I'll be sure to tell him you stopped by." He assured him, his tone almost sarcastic.

"Yeah, you do that." The guy, Aaron, looked over at me and Steve one last time, then stomped off, and we could hear his door slam next door. Darry shut the front door slowly, then turned to look at us.

"Nice new neighbor you got there. Real charmer." Steve's voice was dry as he rolled his eyes. "I can see why the kid split." Darry hummed in agreement, dropping back into his recliner. I vowed to keep an eye out for the kid. With an uncle like that, he needed someone on his side. We hadn't added anyone to our gang since Dally had shown up a few years ago...it might be kind of hard to convince the others, especially Steve and Dally, but if I could get Johnny on my side, that would help. Darry too... Steve shot me another look like he knew what I was thinking, but I ignored him, glancing over at Darry again.

"What are you two up to tonight?" He asked, obviously ready to change the subject. I looked at Steve who shrugged.

"Dally mentioned stopping by, and he'll probably bring Johnny. And if I know Two-Bit, he'll be over too." I told him. Darry snorted a little.

"Probably. We need to go to the grocery."

"We can all clear out if you guys…" Steve started uncertainty, reminded once more that Darry and I were in charge of getting food now, not our parents, and that we didn't always have enough. But Darry shrugged him off, waving a hand.

"We'll be fine for one night." He told him, and Steve stared down at the floor, nodding a little. I knew he felt uncomfortable sometimes, especially since he'd been sleeping on our couch more and more with his dad being what he was. Thinking about Steve's dad made me think about the kid, though, and once more I was distracted. I'd never even met this kid but for some reason...well, it was dumb anyway. The kid probably took care of himself just fine, and I didn't even know him. He probably wasn't looking for anybody to protect him. But even if he wasn't, I had a feeling I'd be looking out for him if he came around.

"Wanna run to the store, little buddy?" I jumped a little, noticing Darry's somewhat confused look and tried to pay attention to what was going on. "You alright?"

"Yeah." I ran a hand through my hair, wiping the grease on Steve's jacket and making him laugh, punching me in the shoulder. "Sorry. Just tired. Sure. I'll run over." He tossed me the keys to the truck and handed me a five. "I want my change!" He called, and I smirked, pocketing the money.

"Sure thing, Dar. You got a list?"

"Get the basics. Extra chicken."

"You got it!" I called, Steve following me out the door.

"He just wants us out of the house for a while so he can take a nap. Your brother's turning into an old man." I elbowed Steve hard, glaring for a second as I climbed into the driver's seat.

"He works a hell of a lot more than you do." I reminded him. Sensing it was a sore subject, he just walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger's seat, and both our eyes were drawn to the house next door where our new neighbor sat on an old folding chair on the porch, downing another beer, a pile of empties growing at his feet.

"We ought to get him to come out with us sometime. I'll bet Evie's got some friends he'd like to meet." It took me a second to realized he was talking about Darry, then I rolled my eyes a little, pulling out of the driveway. As I drove, I found myself keeping an eye out for the kid. I wasn't sure what he looked like, but I figured I'd know him if I saw him. I'd just look for a kid with a busted face, considering what Darry had told me.

Darry hadn't been out with a girl since our parents, and even then he hadn't had a steady girl in a while. At least, not one I knew about. I'd been seeing Sandy for a while now, long enough I was starting to think I'd like to marry her, not that I'd told anybody. I figured I'd wait until I was eighteen, then I could really start saving up. We'd get our own place and Darry wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. He could start looking for his own girl. Until then, though, I knew he wouldn't be interested in going out with girls. I'd tried once before, about a month ago, to invite him out with us, but he'd dismissed the idea immediately, reminding me that he had enough to worry about without dealing with some girl. I'd reminded him that girls weren't all bad, and he'd given me a look bordering on disgust.

"Yeah, I'll bet. You'd just better remember to be careful, you got me, little buddy? I don't need any more kids to worry about." And that had been the last time I'd tried to get him to come out with us.

"Go ahead and ask him. See how it goes." I told Steve, privately hoping Darry gave him a lecture on using condoms for his troubles.

"You guys sure you don't mind us coming over so much?" Steve asked then, his voice a little softer then.

"Man, I told you, it's fine."

"I ought to at least give Darry some money." I shook my head immediately. He'd never go for that.

"Just bring your own beer if you really want to help out," I told him with a grin. "You know Darry ain't gonna take your money."

"I could give it to you."

"I ain't gonna take your money either."

"Soda…"  
"My mom and dad never turned you guys away, and we ain't gonna do it neither. Sleep on our couch anytime, rent-free. You savvy?"

For a second, he was quiet. I didn't talk about my parents much...hadn't brought them up in over a month now, and I could see he was taken aback. "Yeah, I dig." He grinned a bit. "What about the kid? Where you gonna put him?" I snorted.

"'Darry can share that recliner for a night." Steve laughed.

"You really gonna take that kid in?" He asked after a moment, turning serious and turning to me.

"If he needs it. We got a spare room, you know." I shrugged, wondering when I'd made up my mind to that. "It ain't right, a kid being stuck with some guy that beats on him, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." He nodded. "Sodapop…you know, that kid's got his own guardian…you can't just adopt him or nothing. And you can't stop that guy from hurting him." He told me softly. I shrugged.

"The kid's probably gonna need some friends. And we could always use another man in a rumble."

He grinned. "How do you know he's even any good in a fight?"

I pulled into the parking lot at the grocery store and shut off the truck, grinning at my buddy. "Who better to teach him?"

Steve snorted, jumping out of the truck and shaking his head. "Darry ain't gonna want to interfere in this, you know?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, Soda, there ain't nothing wrong with being friendly with this kid. That's fine. But if you try to keep the kid away from him or something? He's got custody. And if he calls the cops…"

"You worry too much," I told him, elbowing him and laughing, but he didn't look amused.

"His uncle came looking for him, Sodapop." He reminded me softly and I glanced at him, grimacing. He was right about that. "Even my old man never came looking…heck, Johnny's folks never come looking for him. That's why we were always safe at your place. But if he comes looking…Soda, he's got custody. And you know the cops ain't gonna do anything about some guy roughing up his kid a little, but Darry could lose custody of any minute, and if the cops get called 'cause you two are hiding some kid…"

"He ain't gonna call the cops on us, Steve." I brushed him off as we went into the grocery store, me grabbing a cart. He worried too much. Still, the thought nagged at me a little. Darry had warned me as soon as he'd gotten custody, pulling me aside after the hearing, that him keeping custody wasn't a sure thing. We had to stay out of trouble…still half in shock from the funeral and losing our parents so quick, I'd immediately agreed. Stay out of trouble. Lay low. The guys had been good about helping us out, and so far, we'd managed to stay under the radar.

I filled the basket with groceries, grabbing pasta and chicken, shaking my head when Steve went to grab more beer. We couldn't really afford it, and we didn't drink it all that much. I barely touched it, and Darry only rarely had one. Of all the things to cut, that would be the easiest. The guys could buy their own for a while. I didn't mind having them over or nothing…just worried about money. It was weird...when our parents had been alive, I'd barely ever thought about money. But now…it was all on me and Darry. Mostly Darry. Even working full time at the DX, I didn't make great money, but it helped, and I had a little to spend. It was enough to have our friends over for dinner a few times a week. And I had a feeling it would be enough to add one extra to our group dinners.

Back at the house, I handed Darry his change, not even trying to joke around and keep a little. He followed me with worried eyes as Steve and I put away the groceries in the kitchen. I think he was about to ask if I was alright when our screen door slammed again and he sighed. "Damn it, Dallas!" He snapped, and I grinned at the pack of chicken I shoved into our freezer. Dally didn't answer, just chuckled a little and joined us in the kitchen, asking the usual questions. What had we been up to? Who was the new guy next door? As Steve explained, I found my eyes drifting over to the kitchen window where I could see Aaron Davis grabbing himself another beer more than once.


	3. Help

**Help**

All week, I followed the same pattern, sleeping in that lot at night and sneaking back into the house during the day to grab food and, sometimes, catch a nap. Sleeping on the ground outside didn't make for the best night's sleep. Once or twice, I'd jerked awake in the middle of the day in my room, terrified that I'd overslept, but so far, I'd been lucky. I figured once he got me enrolled in school, he'd lay off a little. He wouldn't want the teachers to see me covered in bruises and black eyes. I mean, I'd have them anyway, but he wouldn't want anybody asking questions. Once at our last place, I'd ended up in the hospital and the cops had come. He'd been pretty easy on me for about two months after that. At least this place didn't have stairs he could push me down.

I spent my days in the house, cleaning and trying my hardest to get our stuff put away. If it were up to him, there would just be boxes everywhere. Instead, I went box by box, room by room except for his room that I never dared go into. Soon our kitchen stuff was all put away, and our living room was full of his stuff...a couple of pictures, a football signed by someone or another, and a mirror. There wasn't much. Aaron didn't really decorate. It was all crap…we didn't have nothing even worth cleaning, but at least our house could look clean.

I put his beer bottles in the trash and cleaned up the sticky mess they let behind on our porch, scrubbed the kitchen floor, and made sure to take the trash out, wishing this would maybe make him hate me a little less and telling myself I didn't care. Even seeing me as a housekeeper would be better than some kid he'd been all but forced to take. I mean…he could have let me go to a boy's home. Heck, some days I wished he had. But I didn't really mean it. I liked my freedom to come and go as I pleased. So I cleaned our house and looked into Darrel Curtis' kitchen whenever I could.

A few times, I'd catch a glimpse of that brown-haired guy, or the darker haired one, both with hair slicked back and always joking around with one another, laughing and wrestling. I still wondered who they were, and figured they might be Darrel's brothers, or maybe just friends. I wasn't sure, though. Each time they would catch my eye, the brown-haired guy would grin, lifting a hand or nodding, and I'd do my best to return the expression before hurrying back to whatever I was doing, or pretend to anyway. I hadn't had any friends in a long time...and I wasn't sure I wanted any. How were you supposed to know who to trust, anyway? What if these guys were like my uncle? What if they liked beating on younger kids? They seemed nice enough from afar, so I'd keep our relationship just that. Waving through a window was enough for me.

My birthday passed with about as much fanfare as usual. I swiped a candy bar from the grocery store down the road to mark the occasion and ate it alone in my kitchen with a soda from our fridge. Then I opened my sketchbook and stared at the picture I'd drawn of my mom until I couldn't stand it anymore. I hated my birthday. I'd hated it at school, where it was never acknowledged and where other kids would talk about the presents their parents got them. I felt the same about Christmas...the only present Aaron or my grandfather had ever gotten me was not hitting me on my birthday. Sometimes they hadn't even gotten me that.

On Friday, I headed to the lot a little early after cleaning the house, a novel in my backpack, the Agatha Christie one. I was almost looking forward to school since they'd probably have a library where I could borrow books. My uncle didn't have any in the house, and I had about three besides The Carpetbaggers and the Agatha Christie one, all books I'd read over and over until I'd almost memorized them.

I'd figured I'd do more reading before trying to fall asleep, wrapping myself in my coat and sitting in the corner against the wall of the building behind me. I'd spent every night here, so I was almost used to the cold. It seeped into my jeans, making me shiver as I tried to focus on the book. It was a good one, and I usually liked Agatha Christie. But the cold was making me shiver, my legs going kind of numb. My brain didn't want to focus on the book, so I let it drift for a minute as I watched the street, the occasional car or truck driving by.

I hadn't seen Darrel Curtis, or any of his friends that day, which I figured was a dumb thing to be thinking about. Not that I could do much about what my brain chose to fixate on, but still. It was dumb. Darrel Curtis didn't even know my name. None of them did. And they probably didn't' care. I told myself over and over that I needed to stop thinking about those guys and focus on staying out of Aaron's way. Those people didn't care about me. They were just some guys who happened to live next door and had waved at me a couple of times. Apparently, if someone waved at me, I got ridiculously attached, which was pathetic.

When it got too dark to read, I put the backpack under my head and curled up in the corner, shivering and trying not to think about how cold I was. I would be glad when winter was over...when it was warm enough to sleep outside without my hands going numb. Or maybe Aaron would stop drinking for a couple of days and leave me alone for a while. A few hits I could take, but this was about as bad as it had ever been. I wondered why...the new job paid pretty well. He should have been in a good mood! Usually, he ignored me when he was in a good mood, which was when we got along the best.

It took a while to fall asleep...the grass was a little wet and I curled up in a ball, wrapping the coat tightly around me. I wasn't sure if he worked the next day, but I hoped so. I figured maybe I'd sneak in the house, take a nap, grab some sandwiches, and do some exploring. Maybe head back to the woods where I'd hung out on my first day. That was the last thought I had before falling asleep.

The shouting woke me up...it couldn't have been more than a few hours later. I groaned, turning over and pulling the coat more tightly around me, which did nothing to protect me from the shouting. "Help! Dally! Help!" That word got my attention. I'd never actually heard someone yell for help like that...I sat up, pushing the newspaper I'd been using as a blanket off of me and looked around, immediately finding the source. Some kid about my size, probably a little smaller, was surrounded by a handful of bigger guys on the other side of the lot where I'd fallen asleep. There were about five of them, and I stood up before I realized what I was doing.

One of them got him in the face, and he went down hard, the big one climbing on his chest and pulling back his fist again. I ran at him, tackling him and getting him twice in the face before his buddies realized what was going on. Then one of them got me by the hair, making me scream, but I swung wildly, my fist connecting with something that made a sickening crack. The boy on the ground groaned, swearing and climbing to his feet to face the guy's buddies. I couldn't tell how he fared, because the guy that I'd been fighting got me one good in the side of the head, making my ears ring as I went down. He wasn't done, though, and he climbed onto my chest, sitting down right on my stomach, and slugged me again, hard.

I twisted my hips, trying to wriggle out from under him, and got a punch to my nose that made my eyes water, tears falling down my face and stinging what I assumed were new cuts on my cheeks and chin. He was wearing some big rings on his hand, and it seemed they'd cut my face open. The guy climbed off me finally, though, and I rolled over, about to pull myself up when a foot connected with my stomach and I was flat on the ground again. The next kick was aimed at my side, and it slammed into my ribs. I didn't feel anything break but glory, it hurt so bad I couldn't breathe for a second. Then another foot hit me in the head and I went limp, the world spinning as I tried to figure out what was going on. Why had I jumped into the middle of someone else's fight?

They might have kicked me again...I couldn't make sense of anything anymore. Everything was fuzzy. I hoped that other guy had gotten away. I coughed, flinching at the ache in my chest, and watched the grass in front of my face turn red. Suddenly there was the sound of running feet and shouting I couldn't understand, and the people surrounding me were leaving in a hurry. I thought about trying to get up...if something was making these guys run scared, I should probably be scared too, but the second I tried to move, the world went black.

Someone touching me woke me up, the hand warm on my throat as they felt for a pulse. I didn't like people touching me...usually, it led to pain. But this person's hand just pressed gently against the side of my neck. "Hey, buddy? You alright man?" I coughed again, tasting the blood, and wondered tiredly where it was coming from. "Darry!" Whoever was talking sounded panicked, and I made an effort to open my eyes. I wasn't sure what he could be panicked about, but he was sitting pretty close to me, so I thought maybe it could involve me too. And who was Darry? "Hey, man? You okay?" It seemed like he must be talking to someone else, but I wasn't sure. "Those socs jumped me and he just shows up out of nowhere." The guy was explaining to someone. A hand touched my head and I groaned, flinching and trying to move away.

"Shit...his head's bleeding, Darry." A different voice said. The hand moved to my shoulder, squeezing a little. "Kid? C'mon, talk to me." The squeezing hurt too and I groaned again but moving hurt too much. "Darry?"

Another hand touched my arm, and another touched my cheek, patting gently. How many hands did these people have? I opened my eyes a little in the dark and found myself face to face with two blurry, worried-looking guys. I couldn't focus on their faces, though. I couldn't focus on anything...everything was spinning and I let my eyes close again. "You know this guy, Johnny?" Somebody asked.

"Never seen him before. He just tackled that soc that jumped me." What was a soc? What were these guys talking about?

"Kiddo? Hey, wake up." That voice sounded familiar and I tried to open my eyes again. I figured he was talking to me, but no one had ever called me 'kiddo' before. Heck, no one had been this nice to me in a long time...maybe ever. No…someone had been nice to me. But who? "Hey, talk to me, kid." The man urged. He sounded real worried, but I wasn't sure why. No one worried about me. Well, my mom probably had once. Her brother didn't.

"Dar, we need to get him back to our house." Someone else said. I blinked a few times, fighting each time to get my eyes open again. "Looks like they hit him in the head pretty hard."

"Kicked." I tried to say, my words coming out slurred and incoherent. My attempt at correcting him went unnoticed.

"Think he can walk?" The same guy asked, starting to sit me up. I let my neck go limp, my head dropping back so he'd know what I thought about that. I wasn't going nowhere, and I definitely wasn't walking. Nope, right now, I was sleeping. The guy swore, and a hand went under my neck, trying to keep my head up. I coughed again, tasting the blood and feeling it drip down my chin. The guy swore again, this time sounding more worried than before.

"I'll carry him." Someone said, his voice quiet as the other guy took his hand off my head. I kinda missed it. No one had ever sat with me or stroked my hair when I was sick before. It felt nice. Like someone cared or something. Aaron had certainly never done it. I wondered dully if my mom ever had. "C'mon kid." Someone got a hand under my shoulders, pulling me upright, and my chin hit my chest. "Stay with me." His voice became urgent as he stood, pulling me into his arms, one arm under my knees. "Kid!"

"Hey, what's your name, kiddo?" Another voice asked, touching my shoulder. My head fell against the guy's chest, and I struggled to keep up with what the other guy was saying. Why wouldn't they just let me sleep? The world spun as their voices faded in and out.

"Huh?" I mumbled.

"Your name, kid. Unless you want us to keep calling you kid? Steve, can you go ahead to the house? Grab the first aid kit?"

"'M not Steve." I slurred, and the guy chuckled weakly.

"Yeah? Then who are you?" Glory but the guy who was carrying me was moving fast...I was getting even dizzier. I let myself ignore all of it, relaxing against the guy's chest. He didn't seem to mind. "C'mon kid!" Suddenly we were moving up a set of stairs, and into a bright room. I groaned, hiding my face in the guy's shirt. "Dal, can you...thanks." One of the lamps was switched off, and the guy holding me bent down, dropping me carefully onto a sofa. Gosh, that sofa was comfortable, especially after sleeping outside or on a shitty cot every night. I closed my eyes, my head sinking into a cushion, but someone tapped me on the cheek, a new voice speaking up loudly in my ear.

"Wake up, kid!" A cold rag touched my face and I flinched, taking a long, shuddering breath, and suddenly I realized I was crying. Not just crying, but bawling like a little kid, the tears falling hot down my face. I tried to bring up a hand to wipe my eyes, but my whole body felt like it was weighed down with lead. "Stay still, kiddo. That's gotta hurt. We'll get you fixed up, okay?" The voice was gentler this time, and I tried to nod. "Man, his face is messed up...whoever it was had been wearing some rings." Was he talking about me? I didn't have a ring. I tried to move my fingers, just to double check, but my hands felt like they were separate from my body...too far away to operate.

"You never told us your name." The guy from before reminded me when something that smelled like alcohol was pressed against my face. I gasped, trying to get away from the sudden sharp burning, but a hand on my face held me still. I settled for crying out since my hands weren't working and someone was holding me hostage, my back arching as I tried to get away.

"I know, kiddo. Just a sec...I'm almost done." The big guy told me grimly, patting my shoulder as he worked. The other guy waited for me to stop yelling before he started asking me questions again.

"We need to figure out who to thank for saving our buddy. If it weren't for you, those socs could have killed him." I figured he was trying to distract me, and I appreciated it.

"It's stupid," I warned him through gritted teeth, still slurring and remembering how much my uncle hated my name. He wouldn't even say it. I hated telling people my name...they always had a bunch of questions, and the worst ones just laughed. But these guys had saved me...I think. Or maybe I'd saved one of them. Man, I just wanted to sleep.

"What?" The guys asked, sounding confused.

"My name. 'S stupid."

"Kind of a weird name, kiddo." The guy that had told me to wake up joked with a strained chuckle, and I rolled my eyes under their lids, making one of them laugh. How many guys were here? I'd saved one…and heard three more. Was one of them 'Steve?'

"My name's Sodapop, kid. I'll bet yours ain't so bad." One guy, the one who'd been asking for my name, told me dryly. I could tell he was teasing me but not in a mean way...not like the people at my old school. I grinned a little, hoping he'd ignore the tears I couldn't stop from falling.

"Is it really?" I asked him, opening my eyes a little and finding that the guy that was calling himself Sodapop was sitting beside me while the big guy was pressing something to my face. That big guy looked real familiar but I couldn't figure out why. He grinned, reaching out and ruffling my hair like he knew me. It didn't bug me as much as I thought it would. And when his hand rested on my head, that didn't bug me either.

"Sure is, kiddo. Says so on my birth certificate and everything.

"That's a tuff name." I told him, grinning a little. Sodapop was handsome, like a movie star or something, and I figured he was the kind of guy that had girls hanging off him at school.

He smiled, eyes gentle as he kept his hand on my head. The big guy kept something pressed against my face and I tried to focus on Sodapop rather than the pain in my face. "Thanks. What's yours?" He asked. I sighed, blinking again and trying to wake up. Everything was spinning again, and the washcloth that was obviously soaked in alcohol was pressed to my head where the guy had kicked me. I flinched, keeping my jaw tight until I was sure I wouldn't start screaming.

"Ponyboy." I managed to tell him, waiting for the laugher. Surprisingly there was none. Instead, he nodded, lifting his eyebrows.

"That's tuff enough kid. How old are you, Ponyboy?" Sodapop wanted to know. I wondered who the rest of them were, but couldn't get my thoughts together for long enough to ask. There were more guys in the room than Sodapop and the big guy...I could see them in the corner of my eye, standing at the edge of the room and talking quietly, but I couldn't turn my head to get a good look at them.

"Fourteen," I answered, thinking of my pathetic lack of celebration a few days ago.

The big guy sighed, sitting back a little and turning to another guy, the one who'd told me to wake up. "Two, can you get me another washcloth? His head's bleeding pretty bad." Then he turned back to me, his smile grim as his buddy hurried off. What had he called him...Two? Like...the number? "Ponyboy, we'd better call your parents. They'll probably wanna take you to the hospital. You could use some stitches."

I almost laughed but settled for smiling a little instead...didn't want them to think I was crazy. "Good luck." The words came out more amused than bitter, so that was good. I closed my eyes again, sighing and trying to relax into their couch. I just wanted to sleep.

"You need to stay awake. I think you have a concussion." The big guy warned me, shaking my shoulder a little. He was the kind of guy you listened to, so I made an effort, blinking blearily at him. I could have swore I knew this guy somehow. "Why can't we call your parents?"

"They're dead," I told him simply, ignoring the standard silence that always followed that statement.

"Sorry to hear that, kiddo," Sodapop told me softly. "Who do you live with?"

"My mom's brother."

"Alright. What's his name? We need to call him." I shook my head at the big guy. I wondered if he was someone's dad...he talked like a dad. Like a good dad, though, one that cared about you and could take care of his kids. Not like mine. He was so familiar...so was the other guy, but my brain refused to supply the information of who exactly they were to me. "Why not?" The big guy asked me. I wished I knew his name, but I couldn't remember if someone had said it.

"He kicked me out," I told him simply. It wasn't completely true, but it might as well have been. He was in one of his moods, and if I didn't steer clear for a week or two, I'd be in for it, concussion or no. There was silence again in the living room, and I tried to sit up without much luck. I was probably bleeding on their couch, and I needed to get out of there. They'd been nice enough, but I wasn't about to take advantage of that. Besides, it wouldn't be good for my uncle to catch someone being nice to me. "I ought to go…" I told them, flinching when I tried to move.

"No way. You need to stay still kid." The big one told me, his firm hand keeping me lying on the sofa. I stopped fighting him, figuring he was a lot bigger than me and could keep me still if he wanted to. He had a bunch of friends to help him anyway, even if I'd only seen one or two of them. "You can stay here as long as you need, okay?" He asked, the hand on my shoulder going from restraining to comforting. I wanted to argue. I almost did. Then I met his eyes. He looked worried, and I'd never really seen anyone worried about me before. Apart from that one guy from the other day...the big one. My brain tried to make a connection there but seemed to short out before it could manage it. Deciding I didn't have a choice, I nodded, swearing when that hurt too. "Easy, kiddo." He warned. "Soda, grab me some water, willya?"

"Thanks," I mumbled, hoping the word came out okay. Before I caught any kind of answer or figured out what he wanted with a glass of water, I was closing my eyes, falling asleep even as he shook me and warned me to stay awake. That couch was the comfiest thing I'd slept on in weeks.

**Thank you for reading!**


	4. Meet and Greet

**Meet and Greet**

When I finally woke, it was because everything hurt. Everything. Groaning, I put a hand to my throbbing head and tried to sit up. Every muscle told me no at the same time, and I slumped back down onto the sofa, knowing that if I stayed on the sofa, my uncle would find me and then I'd really be in for it. I needed to get to my bedroom and lock the door...or get to that lot. The lot...something had happened at that lot...

Suddenly, the events of the last time I'd been awake came back to me, and I went rigid, my eyes flying open to find the guy from the night before, Sodapop, sitting on the floor, asleep with his head on the coffee table. In the recliner, the big guy was asleep too, and someone must have dropped a blanket over me... and this was the most bizarre morning of my life.

"Hey man. You alright?" I turned at the voice and found a kid I didn't recognize sitting by my legs on the floor. I blinked at him, my eyes feeling swollen as I tried to place him, and then gave up.

"Who are you?" I demanded, tense again. He didn't look like a threat, but that didn't mean much.

"The guy you saved yesterday." He told me simply, grinning when my eyes widened, my shoulders slumping in relief. If I'd saved him, maybe he wasn't gonna hurt me.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, man." He told me, his voice earnest, his smile somewhat awed. "Those socs were gonna kill me. I owe you."

I shrugged as best I could. I didn't want some random stranger to owe me. "Don't worry about it." I tried to assure him, my eyes wanting to close again. I fought it.

"What were you doing in that lot, anyway?" He asked, looking genuinely curious. He had big, dark eyes, soulful and sad, and one of them was all bruised, so I knew that one guy had really gotten him good in the face. He seemed alright though, so it looked like I'd taken the brunt of that beating. That was fine with me. I'd been the one to butt in.

"Sleeping," I told him, not wanting to elaborate on that. He nodded, accepting it immediately. I wondered if he'd been doing the same. "Where am I?" I asked him then, making my voice as soft as I could get it.

"Darry and Sodapop Curtis's house." The memory hit me then, and I started to sit up, but it hurt too much, so I dropped back down, a hand against my side. He lifted a hand like he was gonna help me but dropped it when I just stared at it, wary. "You'd better sit still, man. Those socs got you pretty bad. I got the others as fast as I could…" He trailed off, but I barely paid attention.

"Darry Curtis," I repeated, something in my mind finally clicking as I glanced around the room. "Like, Darrel Curtis?" He nodded, and the big guy, who I recognized now as the man that had given me a handkerchief a few days ago stirred in his recliner. "I live next door," I told the guy with a half grin. "We just moved here."

He nodded slowly. "That's what Darry said...he said you two met about a week ago when you first moved here, but he didn't realize it until we got you here. That guy beat you up pretty bad, so he didn't recognize you at first. I'm Johnny, by the way. Johnny Cade." He held out a hand again, and this time I took it.

"Ponyboy Davis." I shook his hand with all the strength I had. It wasn't much. The guy didn't seem to mind, though.

"Where you guys from?"

"Kansas." I didn't volunteer any more information and he accepted that, just nodding a little. Bits and pieces of the night before came back...I assumed it had been the night before, anyway, and I rubbed a hand down my face. "Hey, what's a soc?" I asked, and he grinned a little.

"You don't have 'em in Kansas?" I shrugged weakly again. "Social elites. The rich guys over on the other side of town. They beat up us greasers for fun."

"Greasers?" Apparently, they spoke a different language in Oklahoma. Or maybe I'd just never talked to anyone before. Glory, that was sad.

"We grease our hair." He shrugged. "It means poor kids, usually. Like hoods. Juvenile delinquents." Those I'd heard of.

"Are you a juvenile delinquent?" I asked, hearing the skepticism in my own voice. He didn't really look the type. Well, his hair was greased back, and he looked kind of tough, but not like somebody I'd be worried about.

Johnny laughed a little. "Nah. Just look like one." I smiled at that, laying my head back against the pillow. Then something occurred to me.

"They didn't call my uncle, did they?" I hated calling him that...hated thinking that he was related to me somehow, but if I'd just said 'the asshole' he might not have known who I was talking about.

"Nope." He grinned a little. "Darry don't like him."

"Me neither," I mumbled, grateful that my uncle managed to piss off just about everyone no matter where we went.

"Darry said your uncle hit you...that first day you moved here."

"Why do you think I was sleeping in that lot?" I asked him tiredly. Now that I knew Aaron wasn't coming around, I figured I was safe to sleep some more. He just grimaced a bit, and I wondered if he could relate. He'd been in that lot too, after all, even if it had only been that once that I'd seen him.

"You want some aspirin? That soc really beat the hell outta you...that's gotta hurt." I thought about it. Aaron had probably done worse, but it didn't feel good.

"Yeah, if you got some." He nodded, standing and heading off. I stared at the ceiling until he returned, then accepted his hand to help me sit up. "Thanks," I mumbled, swallowing the three pills he handed me, then closed my eyes, sinking back into the pillow and falling asleep almost immediately.

A door slammed and I jerked a little but didn't really want to wake up. "Don't slam the door." Someone hissed.

"The kid still here?" I tried to open my eyes, but I was still so tired. I couldn't place the voice, but it wasn't my uncle so I didn't care. It was kind of loud though.

"Yeah, he's on the couch, so shut up." That voice was quiet, admonishing. It was Darrel.

"Shit, those socs sure beat the hell out of him." The first voice was closer now, right by my head, and on instinct, I pretended to sleep. I'd gotten good at that over the years.

"I didn't even recognize him," Darrel mumbled. A hand touched my hair again and I couldn't help the flinch. It had been nice when Sodapop had done it, but I'd been pretty out of it then. Usually, somebody touching me led to hitting, so I tried to avoid it altogether. The hand was gentle though, raking their fingers through my hair. It was almost nice. "Easy, kiddo." He soothed, and my eyes got hot. It was ridiculous...I had no reason to think these guys really cared. So they'd helped me out...they were decent humans. That didn't mean we were friends or anything.

"He woke up a few hours ago." Johnny's voice was quieter than the others, almost hesitant, and the others went quiet to hear him. "I gave him some aspirin."

"Thanks, Johnnycakes. He say anything?"

"Said he knew you...or recognized you." I assumed he was talking about Darrel. "Said he was from Kansas."

"Say anything about that guy...his uncle?" Sodapop asked.

"He asked if we called him. Seemed relieved that we hadn't." I wanted to open my eyes then..man it was hard though. My head felt heavy and my limbs felt weighted down. Giving up, I relaxed into the sofa, barely noticing when an arm went under my shoulders, a pillow moving under my head.

I didn't wake again until someone moved the pillow they'd put under my head, apparently trying to get me to face them. There was a sharp stinging on my face again, and I flinched, jerking my head away, but even that movement hurt so I just groaned, my head moving to my side.

"Easy, kiddo. It's this or let it get infected. You itching to go to the hospital?"

"No," I mumbled, opening my eyes. It was the brown haired guy I'd seen in the kitchen, Sodapop, sitting beside me, his hand on my shoulder as he pressed the rag against my face, apparently concentrating on trying to kill me. "Ouch." My voice was whiny and exhausted, but I couldn't care much. He didn't seem offended though, just smiled a little, another hand coming up to pat my arm, his voice sympathetic.

"Yeah, I know it hurts, kiddo. That asshole was wearing rings...you're gonna have a real tough scar." I snorted a little then, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Yeah? Least I got something out of all this. Tough scar. Aspirin. An actual place to sleep for a night." His good humor seemed to vanish for a second and he frowned, apparently troubled as he met my eyes. I flinched when the rag touched me again and closed my eyes, breathing sharply through the pain.

"As many nights as you need, Ponyboy." He told me quietly, pressing something else to my face once he'd set it on fire with the alcohol. A bandage probably. He taped it in place, and I managed to open my eyes again, meeting his. Their living room was empty, as far as I could tell, and it was real quiet.

"Day is it?" I asked, looking at the window above me. It was getting dark, so I figured it was late.

"Saturday. Around seven. Darry's on his way home, and we'll have dinner." Saturday...heck, Saturday evening. I'd been asleep all day? Suddenly, another thought occurred to me.

"My uncle come looking here yet?"

"Nope." He grabbed a glass of water from the coffee table, helping me sit up with a hand under my neck and helping me take a long drink which I gulped down almost desperately. He pulled it away after a few seconds, rubbing my back. He was acting like he knew me...like we were friends or something. I wasn't sure how I felt about that and flinched a little. "Easy, kiddo. You're gonna make yourself sick. We got plenty of water."

"Thanks." I dropped back onto the pillow, wiping at my eyes. "I mean...for letting me stay here."

"You saved my best friend." He told me simply, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "What were you doing sleeping in that lot anyway?"

"My uncle kicked me out...he does that sometimes. I needed somewhere to crash."

"Johnny sleeps there too sometimes...he should have been here though." I lifted an eyebrow and he grinned. "Our parents...they always let our buddies crash here...mine and Darry's. The gang could always come here when they were hacked off at their parents or something. They crash on the couch or in the spare room...it used to be our parents' room." I paused at that. "They died...less than a year ago. Car accident."

I stared down at the blanket someone had draped over me, picking at a spare thread. "I'm sorry," I told him quietly. Then I asked what I always wanted to know about other people's parents but never really had the guts to ask. "Were they nice?"

He gave me a long, strange look, and I almost regretted asking. Then he smiled a little. "Yeah, they were really nice. Best parents in the world. They treated the gang like their kids, same as Darry and me. Took everybody in. Dallas is one of the toughest guys I know...he was with us last night but I don't think you saw him. My mom, she could keep him out of trouble, you know. She'd put a hand on his shoulder and tell him to be good, for her. And he'd do it, for a few weeks at least" He was quiet for a minute, a soft, sad smile on his face. "What about your parents?"

No one had ever really asked...then again, I'd never had friends. Back in Kansas, everyone had known my story anyway. They'd known my family, by reputation at least and tended to steer clear of all of us. "My dad took off when I was a kid. I don't remember him. He died when I was little though. It was in the papers and my mom saw it. She went to his funeral. My mom died when I was seven. She…" I hesitated, staring down at the blanket, remembering…not wanting to remember. "She did it on purpose." I scratched at my head a little, flinching where I'd hit the place where that guy had kicked me. "I got put with her dad, then he died too. When I was twelve. Since then, I've been with Aaron." I didn't know what made me say all this…I didn't even know this guy. He seemed nice…it was kind of pathetic. But I guess I was kind of pathetic.

"What were they like?" He asked, echoing my earlier question. "Your mom and your grandfather?"

"My granddad wasn't much better than Aaron...didn't hit me as much though." I stared up at the ceiling instead of at the guy beside me. I didn't want to think of my grandfather...of nights sleeping in that strange old house, my room at the end of a long hallway I'd avoided at all costs after bed, choosing to wet the bed rather than risk walking it in the dark for years. I didn't want to think about trying to hold his hand at the funeral, or how he'd shaken me off.

"And your mom?" I blinked, coming back to the present, meeting his eyes.

"Sad," I told him quietly, my voice barely there. "She was sad." His hand came down to ruffle my hair, and once more, I didn't mind.

"You in school?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Not yet. He ain't registered me yet."

"Good. Hang around here for a while. You don't want to start a new school bleeding all over the place, do ya?"

"Guess not." No need to tell him I was always bleeding all over the place. He'd find that out soon enough, I supposed. Living with Aaron was a hazard all its own, which reminded me… "I really ought to go."

"No way, Ponyboy. You've been out of it all day, and Darry's worried you've got a concussion. Besides, we don't mind." I felt a thrill of fear for a second. What if they wouldn't let me leave? Then I told myself that was ridiculous, that Sodapop had been real nice and I was just being ungrateful. Still, when he left me on the sofa to make dinner and asked what I liked, I waved him off, telling him I wasn't hungry.

Darrel got home a little while later, and I assumed it was almost eight. I'd laid back on the couch with nothing else to do, even though Sodapop had turned the TV on, closing my eyes and dozing until I'd heard the door open. Darrel seemed relieved when I opened my eyes, smiling a little as he took off a tool belt and hung it up by the door, then pulling off his work boots. "Hey, Ponyboy. You feeling any better."

"Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks." I mumbled, feeling like the center of attention and hating it.

"Good." He stared into my eyes until I dropped them, uncomfortable with the intense eye contact. His eyes were soft blue, but not icy or mean...they were warm and friendly, just like he'd been from the very start, the guy who'd given me a handkerchief and asked if I was okay after my uncle had punched me in the face. "You had anything to eat?" I shook my head, praying my stomach didn't start rumbling. I wasn't eating with these people. No way I was taking their food on top of everything else.

"Not really hungry," I told him. He frowned at that but didn't say anything, just nodded and grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels and rolling his eyes as the door slammed once more. The dark haired guy from the kitchen came in then, pausing for a second when he saw me, then nodded and headed into the kitchen without a word. I got the feeling he didn't really want me there, and I had to second that opinion. Before, I'd thought about what it would be like to be friends with these guys, but being their charity case wasn't nearly as good. I tried to watch the TV as Darrel grabbed the newspaper off the coffee table, calling out a hello to Sodapop that his brother returned. Man, I thought, it must be nice to have a brother, especially one like Sodapop or Darrel who seemed like they'd look out for you.

"I see the kid's still on the couch." The guy's quiet voice floated in from the kitchen and I stared down at the blanket, feeling my face get hot. It didn't feel right, being here. Already there were three other people in this house and that was more people than I was used to being around at once. I needed to go, back to the lot where my backpack hopefully still was or back to my house or something. In the recliner, Darrel stared at his newspaper and seemed to be fighting to keep his own eyes open. He didn't need to be babysitting me. I wasn't supposed to be here, intruding on their night. In their living room. My own uncle didn't want me around, so what made me think these people would. They'd been nice, but there was a limit to everyone's niceness, and I didn't want to find Darrel's. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" The guy asked, and I heard Soda mumble something at him.

I pushed the blanket off immediately, starting to jump up no matter how much it hurt. He was right. I didn't belong there and it seemed like he'd stayed here lots of times and I didn't want to kick him out of his house or his friend's house or whatever. The point was, he had every right to be here and I didn't. These guys had been nice but it was time to go. Climbing to my feet and fighting back a groan of pain, I turned to the front door.

"Ponyboy?" Darrel asked, putting his newspaper down. I shook my head.

"I gotta get home." I told him, reaching up and touching my head, hoping it hadn't started bleeding again. It had.

"Kid, sit back down." Darrel jumped up and reached out for my arm, and I flinched, jaw tightening as I jerked my head away from him, shoulder coming up to protect my face. He paused for a second and going kind of white, then put a slow hand on my shoulder. The hand on my shoulder was a lot gentler than his words and I felt the world spin as he eased me back down on the sofa. Once I was sitting down, he crouched in front of me. "Easy, kiddo. Just cause we can't take you to a hospital doesn't mean you're okay to be running around. That soc got you good in the head. You need to be resting."

"I need to go," I told him, staring at the ground but too afraid to fight with him. He was bigger than my uncle. A lot bigger.

"How come?" He asked, his voice gentle. Soda poked his head in the living room, and I saw the other guy behind him, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms.

"Just do. My uncle'll be mad if I don't get home." That wasn't true. He'd probably be mad if I did go home, but they couldn't know that.

"Thought he kicked you out." The dark haired guy spoke up, lifting an eyebrow, and I fought the urge to glare at him. Sodapop didn't resist that urge, elbowing him hard in the ribs too.

"He changes his mind a lot." I deadpanned. The guy rolled his eyes while Soda seemed to be fighting a smile.

"Why don't you just stay one more night, Ponyboy?" Sodapop asked, stepping into the living room and smiling a little. "We got plenty of food and plenty of room." He was asking real nice, and I hated to say no, especially when his big brother stood up and towered over me, plus the fact that they'd been real nice so far. It seemed kind of ungrateful to just take off. I glanced over at Sodapop's friend, hoping to make some kind of peace.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want. You can have the couch." I told him, staring at the carpet. It was more comfortable than sleeping outside anyway. Soda was giving his buddy a dirty look, which confused me, but I wasn't about to ask what that was about.

The guy exhaled loudly, looking mad, but when he spoke to me, he sounded more upset than anything. "Shit, kid. I was just messing around. Sleep on the sofa tonight, alright? I'll sleep in the recliner." With the big one standing over me and the nice one smiling a little, I supposed that was that.

"I gotta go home in the morning," I told them, staring down at the blanket.

Sodapop laughed a little. "That's fine. Hell, Ponyboy, you live next door. Not exactly a long commute." I shrugged and Darrel dropped a hand on my shoulder.

"You want something to eat, kiddo?" He asked as Sodapop and his buddy went back into the kitchen.

"I can sleep on the floor. I don't care...it's better than outside." I told him. He glanced at the kitchen, glaring a little, then shook his head.

"Ignore Steve. He can be a jerk, but he doesn't mean it." He assured me. So that was the guy's name. "How's that head? Johnny gave you some aspirin this morning...you want some more?"

I hesitated. I did want it...but didn't it seem kind of ungrateful to make him go get it for me? "I can get it…" I told him, starting to stand, but he was up before I could move, a hand firm on my shoulder.

"You need to stay still, okay?" He told me, gentle still. "I'll go get it." He did, bringing me a glass of water that I had to fight not to gulp down. I swallowed the pills and leaned back against the sofa. He patted me on the shoulder and went into the kitchen, returning with a plate of food. I shook my head then, holding up my hands. "No...no that's alright," I told him. "You don't have to…"

Darrel placed the plate on the coffee table in front of me, ignoring the protest, and I fought not to look at the plate of chicken and corn and potatoes that I was dying to eat. I hadn't had more than a sandwich in days. Darrel left and came back, followed by Sodapop and Steve who all had their own plates, Darrel sitting in the recliner, Sodapop and Steve on the floor with their plates on the coffee table across from me. "There's more in the kitchen if you're still hungry," Sodapop told me, and I forced a smile and shook my head.

"I'm not really hungry." I insisted, but the dark haired one, Steve, rolled his eyes.

"Just eat, kid. You gotta be hungry...you ain't had anything to eat all day." I wanted to argue with Steve, but my stomach started growling and I felt my ears redden as I stared down at the food. Thankfully, none of them laughed.

"Eat, Ponyboy. We made extra."

"You didn't have to…" I tried, but Darrel wasn't having it.

"It'll go to waste if you don't." Darrel reasoned, taking a bite of his own food, and reluctantly I grabbed the plate off the coffee table, watching them closely as I picked up the fork and picked at the food. It had been so long since I'd even seen a vegetable...probably since the last time I'd gone to school, back in Kansas. The chicken was perfect...it could have been burned to a crisp and dry as a bone, but I was so hungry it tasted perfect. I tried to eat slowly, nibbling at the chicken, but I ended up wolfing down the whole plate, and Sodapop grinned, obviously a little smug but not saying nothing. Instead, he reached out to take my plate, but I shook my head, starting to stand.

"I can get it."

"No way, kiddo." He pushed on my shoulder a little, and that was all it took to keep me from standing, taking my empty plate and grinning over his shoulder. I couldn't be mad for some reason though, not at him. Not with the way he smirked a little, on the verge of laughing, but not in a mean way. He wasn't being mean to me. And I could tell. I had plenty of experience with that kind of thing. No...it was more like he was including me in some kind of joke. Steve snorted a little, keeping whatever comments he had to himself.

"You sure you don't want anymore, Ponyboy?" Darrel asked, standing with his own plate and giving a fondly irritated look at Sodapop who snatched it out of his hand.

"No thank you," I mumbled, looking back down. As nice as Darrel had been so far, he was still big, and I wasn't a good fighter in the best of circumstances, much less with a concussion against a guy three times my size.

"Well, if the kid ain't gonna eat anymore, I'll take his share," Steve smirked at me a little, but I didn't think he was trying to be mean either. Sodapop disappeared into the kitchen with a chuckle and came back out with a dishtowel he snapped at Steve's hip. I barked out an incredulous laugh when Steve yelped, jumping a foot in the air, and Darrel chuckled from his chair, shaking his head when Steve went for Soda full out, dodging the dishtowel as best he could.

"You break it you buy it, you hear me, you two!" He called, not looking overly concerned. I stared down at my lap again, listening to the two guys fighting in the kitchen. Glancing up, I found him observing me silently again, smiling a little when I caught him. "You guys are from Kansas, huh?" He asked, seeming intent on making conversation. Not wanting to seem rude, I nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He grimaced a little. "Please don't let my brother hear you call me that. He'll never let me live it down." He wasn't mad. Mad was something I was always on the lookout for, and he wasn't there. I nodded, intent on not making him mad. "What brought you up here?"

"My uncle got a job at the refinery."

"Ah. I know a guy that works over there. Money's decent. What did he do in Kansas?"

"Worked in a factory before they laid him off. Then he worked in construction for a little while, then in another factory, but this place paid more." Darrel nodded. "You met him?" I asked, my voice sounding timid even to me.

"The day you moved in, he came over for a minute." By the way he was scowling toward the direction of my house, I could guess how that had gone.

"Sorry."

Confused, he turned back to me. "What for?"

"If he was rude."

"You ain't gotta apologize for him." Sodapop chose that time to step back into the room, apparently done fighting with his buddy. Steve was carrying another plate of food that he set to eating as Sodapop pulled out a deck of cards.

"You know how to play poker, Ponyboy?" I shook my head, afraid my ears were gonna get red again. He didn't laugh. Instead, he dropped onto the sofa beside me and laid out some cards on the table, so close his leg was against mine. He grinned, real familiar, and gestured toward the cards on the table.

"Guess it's about time you learn, then, huh?" Then, ruffling my hair, he began to teach me to play, Steve butting in occasionally to tell me he was a cheater and that I should find someone with actual talent to teach me. I couldn't help smiling, and Sodapop knocked his shoulder against mine, laughing along with his buddy, and for a few minutes, I forgot that the man next door would probably beat the shit out of me the next time he saw me.


	5. Meet and Greet

When I finally woke, it was because everything hurt. Everything. Groaning, I put a hand to my throbbing head and tried to sit up. Every muscle told me no at the same time, and I slumped back down onto the sofa, knowing that if I stayed on the sofa, my uncle would find me and then I'd really be in for it. I needed to get to my bedroom and lock the door...or get to that lot. The lot...something had happened at that lot...

Suddenly, the events of the last time I'd been awake came back to me, and I went rigid, my eyes flying open to find the guy from the night before, Sodapop, sitting on the floor, asleep with his head on the coffee table. In the recliner, the big guy was asleep too, and someone must have dropped a blanket over me... and this was the most bizarre morning of my life.

"Hey man. You alright?" I turned at the voice and found a kid I didn't recognize sitting by my legs on the floor. I blinked at him, my eyes feeling swollen as I tried to place him, and then gave up.

"Who are you?" I demanded, tense again. He didn't look like a threat, but that didn't mean much.

"The guy you saved yesterday." He told me simply, grinning when my eyes widened, my shoulders slumping in relief. If I'd saved him, maybe he wasn't gonna hurt me.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, man." He told me, his voice earnest, his smile somewhat awed. "Those socs were gonna kill me. I owe you."

I shrugged as best I could. I didn't want some random stranger to owe me. "Don't worry about it." I tried to assure him, my eyes wanting to close again. I fought it.

"What were you doing in that lot, anyway?" He asked, looking genuinely curious. He had big, dark eyes, soulful and sad, and one of them was all bruised, so I knew that one guy had really gotten him good in the face. He seemed alright though, so it looked like I'd taken the brunt of that beating. That was fine with me. I'd been the one to butt in.

"Sleeping," I told him, not wanting to elaborate on that. He nodded, accepting it immediately. I wondered if he'd been doing the same. "Where am I?" I asked him then, making my voice as soft as I could get it.

"Darry and Sodapop Curtis's house." The memory hit me then, and I started to sit up, but it hurt too much, so I dropped back down, a hand against my side. He lifted a hand like he was gonna help me but dropped it when I just stared at it, wary. "You'd better sit still, man. Those socs got you pretty bad. I got the others as fast as I could…" He trailed off, but I barely paid attention.

"Darry Curtis," I repeated, something in my mind finally clicking as I glanced around the room. "Like, Darrel Curtis?" He nodded, and the big guy, who I recognized now as the man that had given me a handkerchief a few days ago stirred in his recliner. "I live next door," I told the guy with a half grin. "We just moved here."

He nodded slowly. "That's what Darry said...he said you two met about a week ago when you first moved here, but he didn't realize it until we got you here. That guy beat you up pretty bad, so he didn't recognize you at first. I'm Johnny, by the way. Johnny Cade." He held out a hand again, and this time I took it.

"Ponyboy Davis." I shook his hand with all the strength I had. It wasn't much. The guy didn't seem to mind, though.

"Where you guys from?"

"Kansas." I didn't volunteer any more information and he accepted that, just nodding a little. Bits and pieces of the night before came back...I assumed it had been the night before, anyway, and I rubbed a hand down my face. "Hey, what's a soc?" I asked, and he grinned a little.

"You don't have 'em in Kansas?" I shrugged weakly again. "Social elites. The rich guys over on the other side of town. They beat up us greasers for fun."

"Greasers?" Apparently, they spoke a different language in Oklahoma. Or maybe I'd just never talked to anyone before. Glory, that was sad.

"We grease our hair." He shrugged. "It means poor kids, usually. Like hoods. Juvenile delinquents." Those I'd heard of.

"Are you a juvenile delinquent?" I asked, hearing the skepticism in my own voice. He didn't really look the type. Well, his hair was greased back, and he looked kind of tough, but not like somebody I'd be worried about.

Johnny laughed a little. "Nah. Just look like one." I smiled at that, laying my head back against the pillow. Then something occurred to me.

"They didn't call my uncle, did they?" I hated calling him that...hated thinking that he was related to me somehow, but if I'd just said 'the asshole' he might not have known who I was talking about.

"Nope." He grinned a little. "Darry don't like him."

"Me neither," I mumbled, grateful that my uncle managed to piss off just about everyone no matter where we went.

"Darry said your uncle hit you...that first day you moved here."

"Why do you think I was sleeping in that lot?" I asked him tiredly. Now that I knew Aaron wasn't coming around, I figured I was safe to sleep some more. He just grimaced a bit, and I wondered if he could relate. He'd been in that lot too, after all, even if it had only been that once that I'd seen him.

"You want some aspirin? That soc really beat the hell outta you...that's gotta hurt." I thought about it. Aaron had probably done worse, but it didn't feel good.

"Yeah, if you got some." He nodded, standing and heading off. I stared at the ceiling until he returned, then accepted his hand to help me sit up. "Thanks," I mumbled, swallowing the three pills he handed me, then closed my eyes, sinking back into the pillow and falling asleep almost immediately.

A door slammed and I jerked a little but didn't really want to wake up. "Don't slam the door." Someone hissed.

"The kid still here?" I tried to open my eyes, but I was still so tired. I couldn't place the voice, but it wasn't my uncle so I didn't care. It was kind of loud though.

"Yeah, he's on the couch, so shut up." That voice was quiet, admonishing. It was Darrel.

"Shit, those socs sure beat the hell out of him." The first voice was closer now, right by my head, and on instinct, I pretended to sleep. I'd gotten good at that over the years.

"I didn't even recognize him," Darrel mumbled. A hand touched my hair again and I couldn't help the flinch. It had been nice when Sodapop had done it, but I'd been pretty out of it then. Usually, somebody touching me led to hitting, so I tried to avoid it altogether. The hand was gentle though, raking their fingers through my hair. It was almost nice. "Easy, kiddo." He soothed, and my eyes got hot. It was ridiculous...I had no reason to think these guys really cared. So they'd helped me out...they were decent humans. That didn't mean we were friends or anything.

"He woke up a few hours ago." Johnny's voice was quieter than the others, almost hesitant, and the others went quiet to hear him. "I gave him some aspirin."

"Thanks, Johnnycakes. He say anything?"

"Said he knew you...or recognized you." I assumed he was talking about Darrel. "Said he was from Kansas."

"Say anything about that guy...his uncle?" Sodapop asked.

"He asked if we called him. Seemed relieved that we hadn't." I wanted to open my eyes then..man it was hard though. My head felt heavy and my limbs felt weighted down. Giving up, I relaxed into the sofa, barely noticing when an arm went under my shoulders, a pillow moving under my head.

I didn't wake again until someone moved the pillow they'd put under my head, apparently trying to get me to face them. There was a sharp stinging on my face again, and I flinched, jerking my head away, but even that movement hurt so I just groaned, my head moving to my side.

"Easy, kiddo. It's this or let it get infected. You itching to go to the hospital?"

"No," I mumbled, opening my eyes. It was the brown haired guy I'd seen in the kitchen, Sodapop, sitting beside me, his hand on my shoulder as he pressed the rag against my face, apparently concentrating on trying to kill me. "Ouch." My voice was whiny and exhausted, but I couldn't care much. He didn't seem offended though, just smiled a little, another hand coming up to pat my arm, his voice sympathetic.

"Yeah, I know it hurts, kiddo. That asshole was wearing rings...you're gonna have a real tough scar." I snorted a little then, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Yeah? Least I got something out of all this. Tough scar. Aspirin. An actual place to sleep for a night." His good humor seemed to vanish for a second and he frowned, apparently troubled as he met my eyes. I flinched when the rag touched me again and closed my eyes, breathing sharply through the pain.

"As many nights as you need, Ponyboy." He told me quietly, pressing something else to my face once he'd set it on fire with the alcohol. A bandage probably. He taped it in place, and I managed to open my eyes again, meeting his. Their living room was empty, as far as I could tell, and it was real quiet.

"Day is it?" I asked, looking at the window above me. It was getting dark, so I figured it was late.

"Saturday. Around seven. Darry's on his way home, and we'll have dinner." Saturday...heck, Saturday evening. I'd been asleep all day? Suddenly, another thought occurred to me.

"My uncle come looking here yet?"

"Nope." He grabbed a glass of water from the coffee table, helping me sit up with a hand under my neck and helping me take a long drink which I gulped down almost desperately. He pulled it away after a few seconds, rubbing my back. He was acting like he knew me...like we were friends or something. I wasn't sure how I felt about that and flinched a little. "Easy, kiddo. You're gonna make yourself sick. We got plenty of water."

"Thanks." I dropped back onto the pillow, wiping at my eyes. "I mean...for letting me stay here."

"You saved my best friend." He told me simply, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "What were you doing sleeping in that lot anyway?"

"My uncle kicked me out...he does that sometimes. I needed somewhere to crash."

"Johnny sleeps there too sometimes...he should have been here though." I lifted an eyebrow and he grinned. "Our parents...they always let our buddies crash here...mine and Darry's. The gang could always come here when they were hacked off at their parents or something. They crash on the couch or in the spare room...it used to be our parents' room." I paused at that. "They died...less than a year ago. Car accident."

I stared down at the blanket someone had draped over me, picking at a spare thread. "I'm sorry," I told him quietly. Then I asked what I always wanted to know about other people's parents but never really had the guts to ask. "Were they nice?"

He gave me a long, strange look, and I almost regretted asking. Then he smiled a little. "Yeah, they were really nice. Best parents in the world. They treated the gang like their kids, same as Darry and me. Took everybody in. Dallas is one of the toughest guys I know...he was with us last night but I don't think you saw him. My mom, she could keep him out of trouble, you know. She'd put a hand on his shoulder and tell him to be good, for her. And he'd do it, for a few weeks at least" He was quiet for a minute, a soft, sad smile on his face. "What about your parents?"

No one had ever really asked...then again, I'd never had friends. Back in Kansas, everyone had known my story anyway. They'd known my family, by reputation at least and tended to steer clear of all of us. "My dad took off when I was a kid. I don't remember him. He died when I was little though. It was in the papers and my mom saw it. She went to his funeral. My mom died when I was seven. She…" I hesitated, staring down at the blanket, remembering…not wanting to remember. "She did it on purpose." I scratched at my head a little, flinching where I'd hit the place where that guy had kicked me. "I got put with her dad, then he died too. When I was twelve. Since then, I've been with Aaron." I didn't know what made me say all this…I didn't even know this guy. He seemed nice…it was kind of pathetic. But I guess I was kind of pathetic.

"What were they like?" He asked, echoing my earlier question. "Your mom and your grandfather?"

"My granddad wasn't much better than Aaron...didn't hit me as much though." I stared up at the ceiling instead of at the guy beside me. I didn't want to think of my grandfather...of nights sleeping in that strange old house, my room at the end of a long hallway I'd avoided at all costs after bed, choosing to wet the bed rather than risk walking it in the dark for years. I didn't want to think about trying to hold his hand at the funeral, or how he'd shaken me off.

"And your mom?" I blinked, coming back to the present, meeting his eyes.

"Sad," I told him quietly, my voice barely there. "She was sad." His hand came down to ruffle my hair, and once more, I didn't mind.

"You in school?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Not yet. He ain't registered me yet."

"Good. Hang around here for a while. You don't want to start a new school bleeding all over the place, do ya?"

"Guess not." No need to tell him I was always bleeding all over the place. He'd find that out soon enough, I supposed. Living with Aaron was a hazard all its own, which reminded me… "I really ought to go."

"No way, Ponyboy. You've been out of it all day, and Darry's worried you've got a concussion. Besides, we don't mind." I felt a thrill of fear for a second. What if they wouldn't let me leave? Then I told myself that was ridiculous, that Sodapop had been real nice and I was just being ungrateful. Still, when he left me on the sofa to make dinner and asked what I liked, I waved him off, telling him I wasn't hungry.

Darrel got home a little while later, and I assumed it was almost eight. I'd laid back on the couch with nothing else to do, even though Sodapop had turned the TV on, closing my eyes and dozing until I'd heard the door open. Darrel seemed relieved when I opened my eyes, smiling a little as he took off a tool belt and hung it up by the door, then pulling off his work boots. "Hey, Ponyboy. You feeling any better."

"Yeah, I'm alright. Thanks." I mumbled, feeling like the center of attention and hating it.

"Good." He stared into my eyes until I dropped them, uncomfortable with the intense eye contact. His eyes were soft blue, but not icy or mean...they were warm and friendly, just like he'd been from the very start, the guy who'd given me a handkerchief and asked if I was okay after my uncle had punched me in the face. "You had anything to eat?" I shook my head, praying my stomach didn't start rumbling. I wasn't eating with these people. No way I was taking their food on top of everything else.

"Not really hungry," I told him. He frowned at that but didn't say anything, just nodded and grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels and rolling his eyes as the door slammed once more. The dark haired guy from the kitchen came in then, pausing for a second when he saw me, then nodded and headed into the kitchen without a word. I got the feeling he didn't really want me there, and I had to second that opinion. Before, I'd thought about what it would be like to be friends with these guys, but being their charity case wasn't nearly as good. I tried to watch the TV as Darrel grabbed the newspaper off the coffee table, calling out a hello to Sodapop that his brother returned. Man, I thought, it must be nice to have a brother, especially one like Sodapop or Darrel who seemed like they'd look out for you.

"I see the kid's still on the couch." The guy's quiet voice floated in from the kitchen and I stared down at the blanket, feeling my face get hot. It didn't feel right, being here. Already there were three other people in this house and that was more people than I was used to being around at once. I needed to go, back to the lot where my backpack hopefully still was or back to my house or something. In the recliner, Darrel stared at his newspaper and seemed to be fighting to keep his own eyes open. He didn't need to be babysitting me. I wasn't supposed to be here, intruding on their night. In their living room. My own uncle didn't want me around, so what made me think these people would. They'd been nice, but there was a limit to everyone's niceness, and I didn't want to find Darrel's. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" The guy asked, and I heard Soda mumble something at him.

I pushed the blanket off immediately, starting to jump up no matter how much it hurt. He was right. I didn't belong there and it seemed like he'd stayed here lots of times and I didn't want to kick him out of his house or his friend's house or whatever. The point was, he had every right to be here and I didn't. These guys had been nice but it was time to go. Climbing to my feet and fighting back a groan of pain, I turned to the front door.

"Ponyboy?" Darrel asked, putting his newspaper down. I shook my head.

"I gotta get home," I told him, reaching up and touching my head, hoping it hadn't started bleeding again. It had.

"Kid, sit back down." Darrel jumped up and reached out for my arm, and I flinched, jaw tightening as I jerked my head away from him, shoulder coming up to protect my face. He paused for a second and going kind of white, then put a slow hand on my shoulder. The hand on my shoulder was a lot gentler than his words and I felt the world spin as he eased me back down on the sofa. Once I was sitting down, he crouched in front of me. "Easy, kiddo. Just cause we can't take you to a hospital doesn't mean you're okay to be running around. That soc got you good in the head. You need to be resting."

"I need to go," I told him, staring at the ground but too afraid to fight with him. He was bigger than my uncle. A lot bigger.

"How come?" He asked, his voice gentle. Soda poked his head in the living room, and I saw the other guy behind him, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms.

"Just do. My uncle'll be mad if I don't get home." That wasn't true. He'd probably be mad if I did go home, but they couldn't know that.

"Thought he kicked you out." The dark haired guy spoke up, lifting an eyebrow, and I fought the urge to glare at him. Sodapop didn't resist that urge, elbowing him hard in the ribs too.

"He changes his mind a lot." I deadpanned. The guy rolled his eyes while Soda seemed to be fighting a smile.

"Why don't you just stay one more night, Ponyboy?" Sodapop asked, stepping into the living room and smiling a little. "We got plenty of food and plenty of room." He was asking real nice, and I hated to say no, especially when his big brother stood up and towered over me, plus the fact that they'd been real nice so far. It seemed kind of ungrateful to just take off. I glanced over at Sodapop's friend, hoping to make some kind of peace.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want. You can have the couch." I told him, staring at the carpet. It was more comfortable than sleeping outside anyway. Soda was giving his buddy a dirty look, which confused me, but I wasn't about to ask what that was about.

The guy exhaled loudly, looking mad, but when he spoke to me, he sounded more upset than anything. "Shit, kid. I was just messing around. Sleep on the sofa tonight, alright? I'll sleep in the recliner." With the big one standing over me and the nice one smiling a little, I supposed that was that.

"I gotta go home in the morning," I told them, staring down at the blanket.

Sodapop laughed a little. "That's fine. Hell, Ponyboy, you live next door. Not exactly a long commute." I shrugged and Darrel dropped a hand on my shoulder.

"You want something to eat, kiddo?" He asked as Sodapop and his buddy went back into the kitchen.

"I can sleep on the floor. I don't care...it's better than outside." I told him. He glanced at the kitchen, glaring a little, then shook his head.

"Ignore Steve. He can be a jerk, but he doesn't mean it." He assured me. So that was the guy's name. "How's that head? Johnny gave you some aspirin this morning...you want some more?"

I hesitated. I did want it...but didn't it seem kind of ungrateful to make him go get it for me? "I can get it…" I told him, starting to stand, but he was up before I could move, a hand firm on my shoulder.

"You need to stay still, okay?" He told me, gentle still. "I'll go get it." He did, bringing me a glass of water that I had to fight not to gulp down. I swallowed the pills and leaned back against the sofa. He patted me on the shoulder and went into the kitchen, returning with a plate of food. I shook my head then, holding up my hands. "No...no that's alright," I told him. "You don't have to…"

Darrel placed the plate on the coffee table in front of me, ignoring the protest, and I fought not to look at the plate of chicken and corn and potatoes that I was dying to eat. I hadn't had more than a sandwich in days. Darrel left and came back, followed by Sodapop and Steve who all had their own plates, Darrel sitting in the recliner, Sodapop and Steve on the floor with their plates on the coffee table across from me. "There's more in the kitchen if you're still hungry," Sodapop told me, and I forced a smile and shook my head.

"I'm not really hungry." I insisted, but the dark haired one, Steve, rolled his eyes.

"Just eat, kid. You gotta be hungry...you ain't had anything to eat all day." I wanted to argue with Steve, but my stomach started growling and I felt my ears redden as I stared down at the food. Thankfully, none of them laughed.

"Eat, Ponyboy. We made extra."

"You didn't have to…" I tried, but Darrel wasn't having it.

"It'll go to waste if you don't." Darrel reasoned, taking a bite of his own food, and reluctantly I grabbed the plate off the coffee table, watching them closely as I picked up the fork and picked at the food. It had been so long since I'd even seen a vegetable...probably since the last time I'd gone to school, back in Kansas. The chicken was perfect...it could have been burned to a crisp and dry as a bone, but I was so hungry it tasted perfect. I tried to eat slowly, nibbling at the chicken, but I ended up wolfing down the whole plate, and Sodapop grinned, obviously a little smug but not saying nothing. Instead, he reached out to take my plate, but I shook my head, starting to stand.

"I can get it."

"No way, kiddo." He pushed on my shoulder a little, and that was all it took to keep me from standing, taking my empty plate and grinning over his shoulder. I couldn't be mad for some reason though, not at him. Not with the way he smirked a little, on the verge of laughing, but not in a mean way. He wasn't being mean to me. And I could tell. I had plenty of experience with that kind of thing. No...it was more like he was including me in some kind of joke. Steve snorted a little, keeping whatever comments he had to himself.

"You sure you don't want anymore, Ponyboy?" Darrel asked, standing with his own plate and giving a fondly irritated look at Sodapop who snatched it out of his hand.

"No thank you," I mumbled, looking back down. As nice as Darrel had been so far, he was still big, and I wasn't a good fighter in the best of circumstances, much less with a concussion against a guy three times my size.

"Well, if the kid ain't gonna eat anymore, I'll take his share," Steve smirked at me a little, but I didn't think he was trying to be mean either. Sodapop disappeared into the kitchen with a chuckle and came back out with a dishtowel he snapped at Steve's hip. I barked out an incredulous laugh when Steve yelped, jumping a foot in the air, and Darrel chuckled from his chair, shaking his head when Steve went for Soda full out, dodging the dishtowel as best he could.

"You break it you buy it, you hear me, you two!" He called, not looking overly concerned. I stared down at my lap again, listening to the two guys fighting in the kitchen. Glancing up, I found him observing me silently again, smiling a little when I caught him. "You guys are from Kansas, huh?" He asked, seeming intent on making conversation. Not wanting to seem rude, I nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He grimaced a little. "Please don't let my brother hear you call me that. He'll never let me live it down." He wasn't mad. Mad was something I was always on the lookout for, and he wasn't there. I nodded, intent on not making him mad. "What brought you up here?"

"My uncle got a job at the refinery."

"Ah. I know a guy that works over there. Money's decent. What did he do in Kansas?"

"Worked in a factory before they laid him off. Then he worked in construction for a little while, then in another factory, but this place paid more." Darrel nodded. "You met him?" I asked, my voice sounding timid even to me.

"The day you moved in, he came over for a minute." By the way he was scowling toward the direction of my house, I could guess how that had gone.

"Sorry."

Confused, he turned back to me. "What for?"

"If he was rude."

"You ain't gotta apologize for him." Sodapop chose that time to step back into the room, apparently done fighting with his buddy. Steve was carrying another plate of food that he set to eating as Sodapop pulled out a deck of cards.

"You know how to play poker, Ponyboy?" I shook my head, afraid my ears were gonna get red again. He didn't laugh. Instead, he dropped onto the sofa beside me and laid out some cards on the table, so close his leg was against mine. He grinned, real familiar, and gestured toward the cards on the table.

"Guess it's about time you learn, then, huh?" Then, ruffling my hair, he began to teach me to play, Steve butting in occasionally to tell me he was a cheater and that I should find someone with actual talent to teach me. I couldn't help smiling, and Sodapop knocked his shoulder against mine, laughing along with his buddy, and for a few minutes, I forgot that the man next door would probably beat the shit out of me the next time he saw me.


	6. Decent People

The guys had all gone to bed around midnight, Sodapop ruffling my hair and Darrel patting my shoulder as both wished me a good night. Steve took a more aloof approach, but his half-smile was genuine as he dropped into the recliner and closed his eyes, telling me he'd see me in the morning as he curled up in the chair, his back to me, a blanket thrown over his head. I waited an hour, just to make sure they were really asleep, then sat up. I needed to get out of here. My whole body itched with it. It was bad enough they'd helped me. They'd been real nice, but soon enough they were gonna find out that I was just trouble, then it would hurt even more when they dropped me. At least my uncle had known straight off.

Easing myself up, I touched my side, waiting for a second to make sure it wasn't gonna give another stab of pain, then manage to get on my feet. Everything seemed to spin for a second, then it all went back to normal. Grabbing my shoes from beside the door, I sat down gingerly, pulling them on as quietly as possible, and I was reaching for my coat when someone moved behind me.

"Whatcha think you're doing, kid?" I sighed when Steve's soft voice stopped me at the door. Turning, I kept a hand on the doorknob, my coat forgotten.

"I gotta get my backpack...I left it in that lot. Then I gotta get home."

"You just don't know how to quit, do you kid?"

I bristled a little. "Don't know what you're talking about."

He grinned then, an honest, amused smile, and, disarmed for a moment, I just stared at him, hackles up, ready to try and run. My whole body leaned toward the door and I felt like a deer eying him sideways, every muscle taut. His smile didn't drop though. "Yeah, I'll just bet you don't. That asshole gonna hurt you if you go home?" I shrugged, staring at the floor. "Why'd he kick you out, anyway?"

"He get's a kick out of it, I guess."

"Yeah? My old man feels the same way. Guess he'd rather keep my room free." I glanced up at him once more, searching his face, but he didn't give anything away, just smiled a little, looking resigned. "Come on then. Let's go get your stuff. Those socs might be around, and you sure can't fight in this condition...or any condition for all I know. You any good in a rumble?" He asked, grabbing a coat I was pretty sure wasn't his from the back of a chair and shrugged it on, joining me at the door.

"The hell's a rumble?" I asked, giving him a look as I pulled the door open, and he chuckled. This was weird. He was talking to me and we were having a conversation and somehow it was going okay. I tried to remember the last time I'd had a real conversation with someone around my age and failed.

"A grudge match. Usually between two guys, and then they just bring their friends along."

"A fight...like...an organized fight?" I asked, feeling kind of skeptical. Maybe these guys were tougher than I'd thought. He laughed a little at my tone.

"It ain't like that, kid. We ain't a gang like Tim's outfit." I assume he took my silence for the confusion it was. "Tim Shephard. Works at the refinery. He's got a real gang, bunch of real tough guys, but they've got our backs if we need 'em. He and Dal run around together sometimes." We headed down the street, me moving slow as we made our way toward the lot. He kept pace with me easily, hands shoved in his pockets. "Ain't you got a coat, kid?" He asked after a minute.

Realizing my mistake, I sighed. "Left it at Darrel's house," I told him, cursing myself for being in such a big hurry. "I'll see if I can get it back some other time."

"What you gonna wear out in that lot? It's just getting colder."

I shrugged. "Might try sleeping in the house tonight." He grunted, glancing around before we crossed the street.

"You slept in this lot all week?"

"Yeah."

"Seen any socs around?"

"Um...I don't think so. Besides those guys last night."

"Good. This is our turf...they shouldn't even be around here." Turf. These people had turf. For a second I felt like I was in a mafia movie or something. But then I remembered Sodapop grinning and Darrel's hand on my shoulder and figured that if these guys were rough, at least they weren't rough with each other, and that seemed to include me for the moment.

"Then what were they doing here?"

"Looking to beat up a greaser, I guess." His eyes darted over at me as we reached the empty lot, his hands still jammed in his pockets. "So...why'd you jump in, anyway?" I looked over at him, frowning a little.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said, kid. Why'd you do it?"

I shrugged. "Because he was calling for help."

"You ever met him?"

"Surely he's told you I haven't." Steve chuckled a little as I spotted my backpack, hurrying over and grabbing it. Reaching down and picking it up made my head throb, though, and I put a hand against the wall, steadying myself.

"Kid?" He hurried over, and a hand landed on my back. "You need to sit down?"

"Nah." I straightened slowly, blinking a few times. "I'm alright." He patted me on the back, keeping his hand up like I might need help. The world was kind of blurry, so it was a possibility. "He was yelling for help, and I wasn't about to let somebody get beat up when I could do something."

"Yeah?" He put a hand on my arm when I started to lean a little. "Well, guess I'm glad you were around. Who knows what they'd have done to Johnny. You sure you don't want to go back to the house? Darry and Soda won't mind...heck, I think they're getting attached to you." I snorted, kind of surprised when he slung an arm around my shoulders. He was close...real close. I could smell his aftershave or cologne or something, and his hand rested on my shoulders. I did my best not to give on how freaked I was...how ready for that arm to turn mean.

"Don't know why," I grumbled, running a hand through my hair and forcing myself to focus on this conversation. I really didn't…Sodapop and Darry seemed like good guys. What would they want with me? Steve squeezed my shoulders and then patted me on the back again. Easy, though, not the way my uncle would mock-pat my back, sending me sprawling.

"Don't question Sodapop. He's a weird one. Come on. We'd better get back." Nodding, I followed him up the street once more, back toward my house. He kept an eye on the street and his hands in his pockets, seeming confident if not a little wary. I wondered if he was any good in a fight…he seemed like he would be the kind of guy who could fight pretty well.

When we arrived, I stared over at Darrel and Sodapop's house for a minute, wishing I could go back there. Darrel and Sodapop were nice. They had taken me into their house and fed me and given me a place to sleep which my uncle also did, but they had done it voluntarily. Also, they hadn't hit me. My uncle used every excuse he could find to hit me, plus he let me know every chance he got that he didn't want me around. "You sure you don't want to come in, kid? Nobody would mind." Steve offered again. I thought about my first impression of him...him asking Soda in the kitchen where he was gonna sleep, and decided I'd been wrong. He was a nice guy...but maybe he didn't want people to know it. Guess he had a reputation or something. Either way, I didn't need to rely on the charity of my neighbors. Too soon, they'd get sick of me, and I'd be right back where I started.

"Nah. I'd better get inside." I shouldered my backpack, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath before making my way up to the house. "Thank you, Steve," I told him, glancing back over my shoulder at the guy watching me from the sidewalk.

"Don't mention it, kid. I'll see you around." I waved, wishing him a good night once more, then headed up the stairs. Thankfully, my uncle was in his room, so I shut the door behind me softly, headed to my room, then fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Banging in the kitchen woke me early the next morning. I tried to remember what day it was and ignore the pounding in my head, groaning and rubbing my eyes. I'd been knocked out by those soc guys on Friday night, then woken up on Saturday...so it was Sunday. So my uncle was off. I really should have stayed with Darrel and Sodapop Curtis. That would have been a much better idea...or just slept in the lot. He had to know I was home. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he thought I was still out, so if I could just stay quiet and in my room then he wouldn't find out. Or maybe I could climb out the window.

Of course, the problem I very quickly ran into was that I had to use the bathroom, and I would have rather take a beating than go next door and ask to use Darrel and Sodapop's. Sighing, I stood, pulling on a pair of ratty jeans and yanking a t-shirt over my head. Everything hurt. My closet was pretty bare, since getting my uncle to buy me new clothes was next to impossible. I usually got a new pair of jeans or a new shirt at the beginning of the school year picked out from the closest thrift store, but with the move, that hadn't happened. Once or twice I'd stolen a few bucks from his wallet to buy some clothes, and just before we'd moved here, I'd stolen a pair of his jeans that were too big for me, but that would have to work since I was running out of clothes. All my pants were too short, and my shirts were getting to be too small since I was growing, so buying new pants seemed a waste anyway.

I peeked out into the hallway, glancing around before actually stepping out. I heard the TV going in the living room and hurried out into the hallway, then into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I had no way of knowing if my uncle was over his crappy mood yet. There was no way of knowing if he was over it until I spoke to him, which was a dangerous prospect in itself. Usually, I avoided him unless absolutely necessary.

After washing my hands and face with cold water, as the hot wouldn't come on, and fixing my hair, I pressed my ear against the bathroom door, listening. I didn't hear anything, so I pulled it open. And there he was. Arms crossed, he stared down his nose at me, looking thoroughly disgusted. "Haven't seen you around in a while." I hesitated, not sure if he was asking a question. It was better not to give an answer if he didn't want one. "What happened to your face?"

"Got beat up by some guys," I told him, keeping my eyes down. That would probably make him happy. He grabbed my chin, his fingers gripping my jaw hard as he jerked my head up to face him.

"How about you show me some respect, huh? Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry," I mumbled, flinching as his fingers dug in, and he turned my face to the side.

"Thought you'd gotten yourself killed or something." He didn't sound too broken up by the idea. Didn't sound too bad to me either, to tell the truth. "Go fix something for breakfast. I'm starving." I nodded, starting to back away, but he squeezed harder, making me gasp a little, my eyes watering. He smirked a little. "Go on." He let go then, towering over me as I turned, my entire body tensing as I turned my back to him, walking down the hall and hoping he didn't shove me or worse.

Thankfully, he didn't touch me, but he did follow me to the kitchen, standing in the doorway as I moved to the sink full of dirty dishes, figuring we'd need something clean to eat off of. My hands shook as I ran the soapy rag over a plate, and then I looked up, finding myself standing across from Sodapop and Steve, both of whom were standing in their kitchen, watching me closely. I sniffed a little, bringing up a hand and wiping my eyes hurriedly. No need for them to see me bawling like a baby. Sodapop hesitated, then lifted a hand, giving me a friendly smile. I did my best to return it. "Thought I told you to make breakfast." His voice came from too close and I remembered Steve standing beside me, grinning and throwing an arm around me with a pang.

"What do you want?" I asked, putting the plate in the drying rack.

The first punch made my entire head throb and I groaned, grabbing the counter and staggering back. I should have just slept in the lot. I didn't even know what I'd done! I hadn't dropped anything! I hadn't smarted off to him! I knew he was drunk but gosh, it wasn't like I'd done anything! I'd just asked what he wanted to eat. He started yelling then, something about respect, but I couldn't make sense of any of it. The second hit came and I felt my nose break. I reached out and shoved him away, but he got me a third time, and that was all I could take. For half a second before I went down, I saw Steve and Sodapop staring at me from their kitchen, their eyes wide, and then I lost my grip on the counter and dropped to my knees on the floor, waiting for Aaron to start using his feet. He didn't. Instead, he opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, and strolled into the living room.

I needed to get out of the house. It was obvious I should have stayed away for longer. Aaron had gone on a bender like this only once before, somehow keeping his job and drinking nonstop at the same time, and I'd spent almost a month sleeping outside and avoiding him. Thankfully it had been summertime...I wasn't sure what I was gonna do this time. When it had been over, he'd taken me out for ice cream, patting me on the back and telling me that I looked like my mom. For a little while, I'd let myself hope...maybe it had all been a fluke. Maybe he was gonna be better. It had lasted for three days.

I thought about grabbing my backpack but my head was spinning, and walking all the way back to my room was inconceivable. Instead, I pulled myself back to my feet, glancing at the kitchen window and finding the two guys next door still there. I didn't meet either of their eyes. I didn't dare. Instead, I dragged myself to the back door and closed it softly behind me, then hurried out into the yard, grateful that I always put shoes on when I got dressed in anticipation of this kind of thing. Hurrying back to the back fence, I used every bit of strength to climb over and landed unsteadily on the other side, gripping the fence and swaying.

"Woah there, Ponyboy." Sodapop appeared as though out of thin air, grabbing my shoulders and steadying me. "You sure can take a punch, huh?" I looked up at him, vaguely aware that I was crying again, and I fought to keep the tears back. No need for him to know I was a crybaby and a wimp. He didn't laugh though, just squeezed my shoulder. "Let's go, kiddo. Couch is free."

They'd seen everything. Him and Steve. And no doubt they'd tell their other friends. They were real nice guys, from what I could tell, and Steve had gone with me to get my backpack the night before. Still, I felt a dull rush of humiliation. I was a kid no one wanted...my own family hated me. I got knocked around by my uncle and worse, and they'd seen it. I wasn't gonna take their charity on top of it. So I shook my head, starting to pull away.

"Come on, Pony." He urged, keeping a hold on my arm. "That's gotta hurt, and you need a place to rest up a little. We got plenty of room." Glory, he made it hard. He was so nice...smiling and calm but hopeful too...hoping I'd say yes. He honestly wanted me to come over. It was easy to have your pride when you had lots of options...it got harder when someone kind was offering to help you out of a tough spot. It was cold out, and getting colder. By night time it might drop below freezing...I needed somewhere safe to sleep.

"I don't want to take the couch if Steve needs it," I told him simply, my voice low and dull. He squeezed my arm, gentle, not trying to hurt me.

"He can sleep in the guest room...or you can. It doesn't matter. You don't need to be around that guy when he's like that." He paused, getting an arm under my shoulders and taking some of my weight. I was glad, 'cause the world was spinning a whole lot and my eyes weren't focusing real well. "He always that bad?" I didn't want to tell him, but I found my mouth opening anyway.

"No…he leaves me alone sometimes." I sniffed a little, glancing over at him and found him looking at me, mouth set in a thin, worried line. He was worried about me. It was a strange thought. I brought my arm up and wiped my nose, my sleeve coming back red with blood. "I don't even know what I did," I admitted softly, warning myself all the while that I had to be careful...that being weak in front of people was so dangerous. He squeezed me little like he was hugging me. I couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged me. My mom? Maybe? My eyes got hot and I worried I was gonna lose it. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.

"I don't think it has anything to do with you, kiddo. Some people like beating up on kids, just 'cause they can. Makes 'em feel big. That asshole's one of 'em."

Moving forward, he helped me around the side of the house and up to their front door, then on to the familiar couch. This time, though, Steve wasn't the only guy there. There was another guy, one I'd seen around before, in their kitchen that first night. He had blond hair past his ears and bright, cold blue eyes. He lifted an eyebrow when he caught my eye, and I immediately looked down at the floor, the submissive response so ingrained I couldn't have stopped it if I'd wanted to. "This is Dallas. He was with us when we found you in that lot, but I don't think you really met him. Dal, you remember Ponyboy?" Soda asked.

"Hey, kid." Dallas nodded from the recliner, seeming to soften just a bit. "You saved Johnny from those socs. We owe you for that." I shook my head immediately as Steve disappeared into the kitchen.

"Nah. It was nothin'."

"It was something alright, kid. Just gotta look at your face to see that. Looks like you got a couple of new bruises too." I shrugged, closing my eyes, but that just made the dizziness worse. "You alright, kid?" He asked, sounding only vaguely interested.

Sodapop's hand went to my shoulder again. "Too many hits to the head, huh Pony?" No one had ever shortened my name...there were very few people that even spoke to me, much less gave me a nickname. It was kind of nice. Realizing he'd asked something, I hummed in agreement to whatever he'd said. "Dal?"

Suddenly a new hand was on my shoulder and I stiffened when Dallas appeared in front of my face, looking straight in my eyes, eyes narrowed like he was looking for something. "Kid, if you didn't have a concussion before, you've sure got one now." He told me, reaching up and ruffling my hair before he stepped away. The gesture made me stiffen a little, but it wasn't awful or anything. Despite the fact that he looked more like a juvenile delinquent than any of the ones I'd met, and despite what Sodapop had told me about him, he actually seemed pretty nice.

"You'd better stay awake for a couple of hours. Take some aspirin and sit down for a while, alright?" Sodapop spoke up. "Let me get you an ice pack for your eye."

"So why'd he hit ya?" Dallas asked, leaning back in the recliner. Steve appeared once more and threw something at me. The rag landed in my lap and I picked it up, my eyes going from it to Steve until he rolled his eyes, tapping his nose. I brought it up to my nose, flinching a little, and tried to get the bleeding to stop, then turned back to Dallas who was waiting for his answer.

"He told me to make him breakfast. I asked what he wanted." I shrugged, sounding as bewildered as I felt. He snorted.

"That all?" I nodded, instantly regretting it when it made me dizzy. Groaning, I dropped my head against the couch once more, jumping when something cold touched my face. Sodapop stood over me, holding an ice pack in one hand, grinning like crazy.

"Told you not to fall asleep." I hummed in agreement, taking the ice pack and holding it against my eye.

"Thank you," I mumbled. He rested a hand on my head for a second.

"Stay here tonight, okay? I ain't taking no for an answer this time. It's gonna be too cold to sleep outside, and you can't stay in that house when he's like this. One more knock to the head and you might really have to go to the hospital. I'll tie you up if I have to." He was grinning when he said it, so I wasn't scared.

I wanted to stay. It sounded great...a whole night inside with no fear of anybody hitting me. Probably. Dallas was a bit iffy. Then again, as scary as he looked, I didn't really think he'd hit me or anything. He might yell, though. I'd just have to be careful. "If you're sure it's alright," I mumbled, shrugging. I don't know why I shrugged. I wanted to throw my arms around him and thank him...beg him to let me stay forever, but that would just be pathetic, and they'd realize even faster that I was a baby...that I latched on to the first person that was nice to me. Then they'd regret being so nice.

"I'm sure it's alright, kiddo. It ain't safe for you to stay there." He dropped onto the sofa beside me, leaning forward and giving me a worried look. "How's that head?" Steve came in as if on cue to bring me a bottle of aspirin, and I mumbled a 'thanks,' swallowing four of the little pills.

"Hurts," I admitted, letting my eyes close.

"No sleeping, Pony." Sodapop nudged me kind of hard and I gave him a look. It was impossible to be mad when he was grinning at me like that, though, and I gave him a reluctant smile, elbowing him back so hesitantly that my arm barely touched him. I'd never done something like that before...never had buddies who pushed you around and laughed with you, all of it a joke. I still didn't, I reminded myself sharply. They were decent humans who were helping me out for the night. It didn't mean nothing...just because I'd never met any before didn't mean I had to turn into a clingy little kid when some came along. My muscles unclenched a little when he chuckled, though, and I felt myself relax. "Come on, let's play cards. You in, Dally?"

"Sure, man." He pulled a deck out of his back pocket and put them on the table. I barely remembered how to play, but it turns out they were pretty forgiving...that could have just been because I had a concussion, though. Dallas ended up winning the first round and Sodapop won the second. Steve kept an eye on me...heck, they all seemed to, but he was the worst at hiding it. Our eyes met several times as we played, me looking right back down at the cards and trying to remember the rules. Sodapop stayed right at my side, mumbling the rules under his breath when it looked like I was stuck and nudging me when he seemed to think I was going to nod off.

I was starving, wishing I'd been able to grab breakfast before my uncle had kicked me out. I didn't dare ask these guys for food, though. Instead, I tried to focus on the card game until Sodapop won the last round. I had a feeling he'd cheated but wasn't about to call him out on it. I just dropped my cards on the table, my eyes drooping as I leaned dizzily against the back of the sofa. Dallas was shuffling his cards, Sodapop silent beside me on the couch, and I had a feeling either him or Steve was about to say something when the door was thrown open. I jumped, every muscle tense as I dreaded my uncle coming through that door. I mean, I wasn't sure he'd be able to hold his own against Dallas, Steve, and Sodapop, but I also wasn't sure they'd wanna fight him. Not over me.

Sodapop's hand came up and patted my back. "Easy there, kiddo." I fought the urge to flinch, another fun, ingrained response.

The person that came through the front door wasn't my uncle. It was some tall, red-headed guy with long, rust-colored sideburns. He had a beer in his hand and was grinning until he came through the door and saw me sitting on the couch. He paused then, the bottle held loosely in one hand at his side. The beer made me kind of nervous...he was a big guy, with stormy eyes that glanced from Steve to Sodapop to Dallas, all of us sitting around the table that was now covered in cards. "Hey there, kid. Thought Sodapop told me you'd split last night." How would he know that, I wondered. Had Sodapop or Steve called him? Why?

"Thought we'd have him over again. He's a lousy poker player...decided we'd try and hustle him." Sodapop teased, knocking his shoulder against mine and laughing. "We're about to make some lunch...Darry's had stuff to do around town. He should be home soon with groceries, but for now it's just sandwiches. Wanna give me a hand, Two-Bit?"

"Sure thing." The guy that Sodapop had called 'Two Bit' glanced at me again with an easy smile, following Sodapop, and Steve turned to me.

"That's Keith, but we always call him Two-Bit because…"

"I always have to get my two bit's in!" The guy called from the kitchen, and Dallas snorted, rolling his eyes.

"I see," I mumbled, the smile on my face involuntary. Dallas continued shuffling the cards and started to pass them out again, but I lifted a hand, shaking my head. I couldn't make myself focus anymore.

"Don't go to sleep, kid," Dallas warned, rapping his knuckles against the coffee table. I forced my eyes open, meeting the guy's eyes. "You fall asleep with a concussion, you might not wake up." I snorted, leaning back against the back of the sofa, my eyes closing again.

"Yeah? Sounds fine to me." I muttered, realizing they'd heard me only when the stricken silence became overbearing and I opened my eyes. Steve was kind of pale, his expression bordering on worry. I swallowed hard, then closed my eyes again. They weren't really concerned. They didn't even know me. Why on Earth should they care if I died? Then again, I'd saved their buddy...maybe that mattered more than I'd thought.

Two-Bit and Sodapop appeared then with a plate of sandwiches that Sodapop placed on the coffee table. I sat up a little, eyeing those sandwiches, but I didn't want to presume or anything. My uncle had sure served guests food I wasn't allowed to touch plenty of times. But just when I was about to lay back and close my eyes again, Sodapop grinned at me. "Eat up, Pony." He told me, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite.

"Hey, I'm gonna grab some drinks." Steve jumped up, jerking his chin toward the kitchen. "Sodapop, help me out?"

"Uh...sure." Sodapop gave him a half confused looking smile, joining his friend as they headed into the kitchen once more. Shrugging, I reached out, eyeing this Two-Bit guy as I started to take a sandwich. He just dropped down to the floor where Steve had been, watching me curiously. Dallas was eyeing me too, and I wondered if maybe I should just leave the food alone. He met my eyes, nodding toward the plate.

"Eat, kid." He ordered, grabbing himself a sandwich, and I complied, watching Two-Bit out of the corner of my eye as I took one then sat back, nibbling at the crust. I was starving, but I didn't want them to know that.

"So...how come you split last night, Ponyboy?" Two-Bit wanted to know, waiting until I was leaning back against the sofa to take a sandwich of his own. They were baloney, which wasn't so bad. I ate it plenty...it was pretty much the only thing the asshole bought, apart from pasta and, occasionally, hot dogs.

"Just needed to get home," I mumbled, staring at my sandwich.

"Yeah? Just you and your uncle over there?" Two-Bit asked, his voice light.

"Yeah." I kept my eyes down, trying to ignore the constant ache in my head.

"Kid's gonna stay here tonight. Might actually stay put this time." Dallas let him know, taking a bite and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I thought about reminding them that I had a name, but decided it didn't really matter. I'd been called a lot worse than 'kid' anyway.

"Sounds good. You any good in a rumble?" I snorted, as did Steve as he came back into the room, Sodapop trailing behind, each of them with bottles of sodapop. I smiled a bit at the irony when Sodapop handed me one, mumbling a 'thanks.' He dropped back onto the couch beside me, patting me briefly on the back. He sure was a touchy kind of guy for a...what? Hood? I didn't think so. Juvenile Delinquent? Greaser. That was the word. But maybe all guys were like this with their friends...I never paid that much attention to other guys.

"We already covered this," Steve informed Two-Bit. "Apparently they don't have rumbles in Kansas." I shrugged when Two-Bit gave me an incredulous look.

"Maybe you ought to stay out of fights for a while anyway." Sodapop suggested.

"Once you're healed up, we'll show you how to rumble." I was a bit skeptical but shrugged at Two-Bit.

"If you say so."

"I insist." He grinned, holding up another beer he'd gotten from somewhere or another like he was toasting me. "It's easy. You've already proved you're a good man in a fight."

"When did I do that?" I wondered, scratching my head. He grinned but didn't look very amused.

"You already forget saving Johnny?"

"Oh...that...I think they gave me a concussion." I told him, running a hand over my face. My head hurt so bad, it was hard to keep track of what was going on.

"Yeah, but you jumped into a fight and saved our buddy, so I say you're a good man in a fight." He toasted me again. I dropped my eyes back down to my sandwich, taking another bite.

Right as I was finishing the sandwich and wishing I was brave enough to take another, the door opened and closed again, and Darrel appeared, carrying a few bags of groceries. "Hey, wanna help me out, little buddy?" He called before catching sight of me, his eyes widening for a second. "Hey there, Ponyboy."

"He's gonna stay here tonight." Sodapop informed him, standing and heading out the door, presumably to get the groceries.

"If that's alright." I tacked on. I didn't ever want to presume...not with the first nice people I'd met. He smiled a little, dropping the bag in the kitchen then coming over to where we all sat.

"Yeah, kiddo. That's just fine. Stay as long as you need, alright?" I muttered a thank you, trying not to feel embarrassed about needing a place to stay. "You're bleeding again," he told me quietly, and I sighed, picking up the rag and holding it to my nose, flinching when it shifted under my fingers and wondering if it would get a chance to heal before he broke it again.


	7. Hiding

The boy held a rag to his broken nose, blood saturating it after a few seconds, but I noticed he was real careful to keep it from dripping on anything, hand cupped under the rag. He tilted his head back, panting through his mouth, and I knew he was hurting. We wouldn't have cared if he got it on the sofa...Darry wouldn't have said anything. He just kept an eye on Ponyboy when the kid wasn't looking, seeming more and more worried. I was worried too. Steve had asked me to help him get drinks, which was pretty weird since he could carry a couple of bottles on his own. 2But I'd gone along with him anyway, following him into the kitchen while Dally had kept Ponyboy distracted. I'd had a nagging feeling that he'd wanted to talk about Ponyboy, and I'd been right. "This kid's got issues." He'd told me in a harsh whisper, making me glare at him as soon as we'd stepped into the kitchen. I'd thought the two of them had been getting along just fine! I knew he didn't usually like kids, but this one was different. Couldn't he feel that? This kid was supposed to be our friend...I just knew it, and I didn't care if the guys thought I was nuts for it.

"Steve…" I had started, trying to explain something even I didn't really understand, but he cut me off.

"Man, listen!" He hissed. "You didn't hear him...Dally said if he went to sleep with a concussion he might not wake up. Kid said that sounded fine to him." I'd gone kind of cold, looking at Steve, not quite sure if I believed him. He had no reason to lie about something like that...still...the kid was only 14! "He's got a death wish, Soda. I'm just saying...maybe don't get too attached." He warned, glancing back at the living room.

I'd felt hopelessness and fury rising in my chest, choking me. It wasn't fair...it wasn't fair that a fourteen-year-old would have thoughts like that. "He's just a kid!" I'd hissed back. "Shit, Steve…"

"Look, I don't know what his uncle's done to him, but the kid's jumpier than Johnny, man. Looked at Two-Bit like he was gonna go off and slug him. And you see how he acts with the rest of us." Steve had shaken his head, finality in his voice. "Kid's messed up."

"We can help him." I'd told him, opening the fridge and pulling out a couple of sodas and a beer for Two-Bit. It was a silly thing to say, I'll admit it. I was a greaser. A high school drop-out. Not a hood, but close enough. What kind of help could I really help a kid like that? But I was damned if I wasn't gonna try.

Steve closed his eyes for a second, and when he looked at me again, there was a look almost like pity in his eyes, the smile touching his lips sad. "Sodapop, unless you're a therapist or a social worker…"

"The kid needs some friends." I'd snapped, slamming the fridge door shut, then hoping he hadn't heard me from the living room. "We'll have his back." That would help, right? The socs wouldn't bug him if he was with us...well, not as much, anyway. I didn't think he'd ever had friends before...that was going to change. I hated the thought...couldn't imagine living fourteen years alone, surrounded by people who didn't give a shit about you. I'd thought about my mom and dad and my chest ached. They would have adopted this kid on sight, I suddenly realized, not that it was an option for us. Even if we could have afforded it, his uncle had custody and I doubted he'd hand his punching bag over. I'd been right earlier. Some people liked beating up on kids to make 'em feel big. This asshole was one of them.

"Whatever you say." Steve had shrugged, heading back to the living room. I'd wanted to grab him back and shake him...make him listen. Make him hear me. But I'd just followed him into the room where everyone had been waiting for drinks, Ponyboy looking as scared and uncomfortable as ever.

Ponyboy was awful pale, and I figured his head was hurting him real bad. He leaned against the back of the sofa, eyes barely open. Darry met my eyes and shook his head. He was worried. If something happened to this kid on our sofa, it would put us on the fuzz's radar which was something we didn't need. I got that. But this kid needed help...bad.

I went with Darry into the kitchen this time, knowing Dally would keep an eye on Ponyboy. Two-Bit and Steve too. I was worried about him falling asleep, but Darry jerked his head toward the kitchen and I grabbed the empty plates, following him and knowing he wanted to talk to me. "Ponyboy, you want something else to eat? We can make more sandwiches?" The kid shook his head, but I could see in his eyes that he was about starving. He was just too scared to ask. Well, I could fix that. "Alright. Who wants cake?" I asked, and everyone else called out a yes as I stood in the kitchen doorway. "Ponyboy? You too?" He glanced around at the guys, slowly lowering the bloody rag from his nose and taking in the other guys. None of them looked at him at first...I figured they didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but the awkward silence was just as rough.

The kid was alone on the sofa, Dallas in the recliner, Two-Bit and Steve on the floor...there was plenty of room on the sofa but I guess they were giving him space. He looked awful small on the sofa all by himself, and I had to fight the urge to go back over to him and sit down, throwing my arm around his shoulder and promising I'd look out for him. Suddenly, Dal spoke up, kicking the sofa and looking Ponyboy head on. "Cake, kid. Yes or no?" He asked, his usual tone tempered a little. We all seemed to let out a breath, and Ponyboy nodded.

"Uh...okay. Thanks." He murmured, and I counted it as a victory, joining my brother in the kitchen and pulling a cake out of the icebox.

"What do you think?" I asked Darry.

"I don't know, little buddy." He sighed, grabbing some plates from the cabinet. "If something happens to him while he's staying with us…"

"He doesn't have anyplace else to go." I reminded him, real quiet. I didn't like that tone. Yes, Darry was worried about the kid, but not the same way I was. He saw him as our neighbor who got beat on by his uncle...why couldn't anyone else feel it!?

"I know…" He ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at the living room which was too quiet. He was only twenty years old...just four years older than me. It was bad enough he had me to look after...it wouldn't be fair to ask him to take in a fourteen-year-old kid. I knew that. But what if we didn't? What was gonna happen to the kid who'd saved our friend if we didn't do something? I felt a surge of protectiveness, almost like when I thought about Johnny getting beat up by socs...but it was stronger, which made no sense. I'd known Johnny just about my whole life. I'd just met this kid...heck, we'd barely had a real conversation. But I wanted him to stay. I wanted a little brother. It was irrational and ridiculous but I knew it was true anyway.

"I'll work more. Pick up some more hours if that's the problem." I told him, my voice real soft. He'd know what I was suggesting. Turning to look at me, his eyes narrowed a little in confusion. But I was already planning. "I'll bet I've got old clothes that will fit him and…"

"We can afford a little more food, that ain't the problem." He cut me off gently, wiping a hand down his face. He wanted to help him too. Darry was always helping our buddies, and he knew as well as I did that Ponyboy was a good kid. But that was it...he wanted to help a kid. I wanted more. "If his uncle comes looking for him...or if he goes to the fuzz…"

"We gotta help him, Darry." Suddenly my eyes were hot and I wiped at them impatiently. "He punched him in the face...the kid just asked what he wanted for breakfast and he went at him...he's gonna kill him, Dar. He looks like he's starving to death and he's so scared…"

Darry reached out, squeezing my arm. "Hey, we'll do the best we can, okay?" I nodded, heart dropping a little. I knew it was silly. He wasn't a stray dog we could just bring into our house. He was a kid. There were laws and stuff. "He can sleep on the couch or the spare room...whatever he wants. We've got extra food…" He seemed to be going through a list, ticking things off. "He's welcome to come here whenever he wants."

"What about his head?" I asked, placing a slice of cake on a plate, then another, trying so hard not to be disappointed. Irrational. That's the word for what I was being.

Darry was quiet for a moment, his lips in a thin line. "We just have to hope he's okay. Let him rest and try to keep him awake for a while. That's all I know." He started to grab a plate and I reached out, catching his shirt.

"Hey, Dar?"

His eyes were gentle when he turned to me, and I knew he was worried. Worried about this kid and me and the whole situation. We didn't need trouble. Not now. "Yeah?"

"Steve's worried that...well...Dally was saying that he shouldn't sleep...that he might not wake up. Ponyboy said that was fine with him." Darry clenched his jaw real tight, nodding his head. "I just...I don't think he had any friends where he used to live and he's been living with people that hated him for a long time..and...he told me that his mother killed herself."

"Alright. We'll tell the guys...everyone can keep an eye on him. Maybe he can sleep here...at least until his uncle calms down a little. We'll let him realize he's safe with us, okay?" I nodded, cutting another slice, and we carried them into the living room where everyone was waiting for their cake.

Ponyboy's eyes were dull as he stared straight at his lap, but when I placed a piece of chocolate cake in front of him, he smiled a little. "Thanks." He muttered, flinching just a little when Darry walked by and ruffled his hair. My big brother fought to keep the smile on his face, handing Dally and Two-Bit their slices of cake. The guys starting eating theirs immediately, but Pony waited, keeping an eye on us until I moved away a little, then picked at it. Did he really think I'd take it away, I wondered, but I didn't want to think about that. Instead, I dug into my own slice.

"How's your head?" I asked, pretty quiet. The guys were giving us space as best they could, focusing on their own food.

"Hurts." He told me dully. I left him alone to eat his cake for a while then, glancing at Darry and Steve, realizing that everyone was keeping an eye on him.

"You want some more water or anything?" I asked him after a bit. He just shook his head, finishing his cake then starting to get up with the plate, but I held him down. "Easy, kiddo. You stay on the couch, okay? I'll take it."

"You ain't gotta…"

"You're concussed. No walking for you." He seemed to go kind of pale, and he stared down at his lap.

Dally stood up, pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket, and Two-Bit and Steve joined him, slamming the screen door shut behind him. Darry grabbed our plates, giving Ponyboy a sidelong glance but leaving me to talk to him. "Hey...you ain't gotta look like that," I reassured him, putting a slow hand on his shoulder. "We're not gonna hurt you or nothing...you're not a prisoner here, kiddo. We just want you to have a place to sleep where you ain't gotta worry about that nutjob next door."

He looked at me like he didn't believe me, his face still pale and drawn as he kept an eye on my hands. I removed the one on his shoulder, putting it in my lap so he could see them both. "I can't stay here." He finally told me, his voice soft and hoarse. "He'll come after me." I shook my head.

"You can stay here as long as you want. I mean, you need to stay at least for a night or two...make sure you're okay. After that, you can stay over as often as you want. And if that asshole comes over here, we'll take care of him." Ponyboy didn't look like he believed me, and Darry chose that moment to come back in. I pointed at my brother, leaning in and pretending to whisper. "See Darry?"

The kid tried to hide a grin when Darry gave me a look, glancing over in confusion at us as he sat in his recliner. "Yeah." He told me, leaning in to hear me.

"See his muscles?" He snorted when Darry rolled his eyes. Ponyboy nodded, fighting a smile.

"Uh huh."

"Know how he got 'em?" He looked over at my brother, trying to be covert, his lips tugging into a smile, then shrugged.

"Lifting weights?"

"Nah. Bashing people's heads in." I nudged Ponyboy who laughed out loud, hand over his mouth like he was supposed to keep quiet, and in that moment I saw it...the kid underneath all that fear and pain.

"Will you stop?" Darry asked, rolling his eyes again, but he was smiling. "I played football in high school." He told the kid.

"What about you? Play any sports?" I asked Ponyboy, sitting back and leaning my head on the sofa. Darry turned down the TV. Just like that, the kid disappeared again, his eyes dying just a little. I wondered if anyone would care if his uncle disappeared.

"Used to run track." He told us quietly like he was admitting something bad.

"Yeah? You ever win?" I asked.

"Yeah...had to quit, though."

"How come?" Darry wanted to know.

"We had to pay when we went out of town and stuff...plus I needed new shoes." He shrugged. Darry nodded, jaw tight, and I ruffled the kid's hair.

"Maybe you could try out here," I suggested, and he shrugged again. I wanted him to come back. I wanted him to laugh again.

Darry leaned in with his elbows on his knees. "How's your head, Ponyboy?" He asked, soft and serious.

"It hurts."

"Yeah? You feel dizzy or sick or anything?"

"Not really. Just tired."

"Alright, kiddo. Let me know if you start feeling sick. You've hit your head a lot…" He broke off when the guys all came back in from smoking, the smell wafting into the living room. I wondered if the kid smoked. He was kind of young, but we'd all started around his age. I didn't ask, though.

The knock at the door came at around noon. We'd all been watching TV, me at Ponyboy's side, Steve on my other side on the sofa. Johnny hadn't shown up yet, and I was wondering where he was. Maybe doing homework or something. I knew he had some trouble with English sometimes, and Darry was the only one good enough in school to help him. He was usually busy, though, and Johnny didn't like to ask. On the floor, Dallas and Two-Bit were sitting cross-legged, idly watching the TV and probably planning on how to get into some trouble. Steve would probably want to go along, and so did I. But I was didn't want to leave Ponyboy here alone with just Darry to look after him. Maybe he could come along...if we kept it simple. Nothing rough...maybe introduce him to some people around town. Let people know who he was with now...who was watching his back.

I mean, he wasn't a puppy or a baby or nothing. He didn't need a babysitter. I had a feeling he could usually hold his own, but I wasn't about to leave him alone right now, and Darry might have plans...I hadn't asked. I was opening my mouth to ask my brother what he was gonna be doing later when the knock came.

We all turned to stare at the door, then all of our eyes went to Darry. Beside me, Pony had started shaking again, and for a moment, Darry met his eyes, seeming to wonder what to do. We didn't know it was his uncle, but if it was and he was here looking...we sure didn't have any legal right to keep him here. Darry knew that. We couldn't let his uncle take him, though. Not now. The kid couldn't take any more hits right now.

Darry met Two-Bit's eyes then, jerking his head toward the back room, and our buddy nodded, standing and holding out a hand for Pony as the pounding on the door came again. "Come on, kiddo." He urged, helping our new friend to his feet and throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Let me show you Sodapop's room. You've never seen so much dirty laundry in your life. Puts my place to shame. Then again my kid sister usually keeps up with ours when she isn't out with her friends. You ought to meet her sometime." He went on and on, and Darry opened our front door just as Two-Bit was closing my bedroom door.

"Mr. Davis." He greeted, his voice flat. I glanced at Steve who leaned in, looking real mad. On the floor, Dallas played with a switchblade idly, his eyes on the TV. I wasn't fooled, even if Ponyboy's uncle might be. Dallas was ready to jump up any second. "Can I help you?"

"Looking for my kid. Damn little shit's always running off." He was slurring his words, and I wondered how long he'd been drinking. Why? Why did he want Ponyboy? To hit him some more? Glory, this guy was asking for it. "Where is he?"

"He isn't here," Darry told him simply, hand on the door, ready to slam it in his face.

"Little shit smarted off to me...better get back here...I'm gonna give him something to smart off about." He snapped, and Dallas flipped his blade out with an audible 'click.' Even in his drunken stupor, the guy noticed that, eyes darting to Dallas who was looking right back at him. I knew then that in saving Johnny, Ponyboy had guarenteed Dallas's protection. I was glad. Dal was a real good friend to have.

"Your nephew isn't here," Darry told him again. "Why don't you go home and sleep it off? I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Supposed to get the little shit in school...don't know why I gotta…cops'll be sniffing around…"

"I think you'd better go, Mr. Davis." Darry started to shut the door in his face, but the guy lunged and caught it.

"I know you've got him here! Shit's more trouble than he's worth, you'll see! He…"

Darry caught the guy's arm as he started to come in, his knuckles white as he gripped his wrist. Leaning in, he spoke real soft. None of us had moved...my big brother sure didn't need any help. Whatever he said to the guy had him backing off, jerking his arm out of my brother's grip and storming off. Darry shut the door, turning to us grimly.

"We can't let him go, Darry." I all but whispered, begging my big brother to make this okay. "He's gonna hurt him...he might kill him." Darry nodded while Steve dropped a hand on my shoulder.

"He's so drunk I doubt he'll remember coming over." Dallas put in, closing his blade and putting it back in his pocket.

"But if he calls the cops…" Darry shook his head, giving me a sad look. "You know I ain't gonna risk losing you, Sodapop."

"You ain't! Darry…" I jumped up, feeling my heart drop. "You can't send him back. Darry, he'll kill him. He's only fourteen." I all but begged, all of us talking real soft.

Darry met my eyes, looking so sad I couldn't take it. "I can't risk the fuzz coming and taking you away. We can afford to help him out a little, Soda, but this kid needs a real family."

"We'll be his family." He blinked a few times, looking at me close like was trying to figure out what I meant. "We'll be his family, Darry. Heck, we're Johnny's family, and Steve's and Two-Bit's and Dal's." I gestured toward our buddies who just watched the whispered conversation from the floor. Steve still looked like he pitied me, but Dallas looked...interested.

When Darry spoke, he sounded like he was talking to a little kid. "Sodapop, they can all take care of themselves. They got jobs or families. Ponyboy is fourteen. He needs someone to take care of him. No way they're gonna give me custody of a fourteen-year-old kid that just moved in next door and already has a guardian. I'm only twenty years old, Pepsi-cola." That made me flinch. Only twenty. He didn't deserve this.

"The kid's survived this long, Soda," Steve told me softly, squeezing my shoulder.

"Hey, I ain't saying he can't stay here when he wants," Darry assured me, coming over and putting his hand on my arm. "But he will have to go home eventually. I can take his uncle looking for him, but if he calls the police, we can't hide him."

I knew it was different. I knew that our other friends had families that wouldn't come here to find them. They would happily let us provide the food and a place to sleep...Ponyboy's uncle was vindictive. He hated his nephew. He liked beating on him. "He works at the refinery?" I asked suddenly, glancing at Dallas who perked up a little at that. Darry just nodded, not understanding, but I knew Dallas would. Our buddy met my eye for a second, giving a half nod.

I went into my bedroom to check on Pony and tell him...what? That his uncle was gonna hurt him some more and we couldn't do much about it? That we were poor and he was out of luck? I shook those thoughts away as Dallas headed out, hopefully, to talk to Tim. He was pretty sharp...and surely Tim would give me a hand. When I opened my door, I found both of them on the floor beside my bed, huddled against the window. Pony sat with his knees up to his forehead, so still I wondered if he was even breathing. Two-Bit sat beside him, legs stretched out, playing with his black handled switch and stopping when I stepped into the room.

I shut my door behind me softly, heading over and sitting on the kid's other side. "Trying to make yourself into a lamp or what?" I asked, rubbing his back. The boy didn't answer. I glanced at Two-Bit. "You guys hear any of that?" I asked.

"Enough of it." He told me, grim. I wanted to ask exactly how much but didn't ask.

"You can sleep on the couch tonight, Ponyboy," I told the kid, my hand making slow circles on his back. "I think Darry's making spaghetti for lunch. That sound okay?"

I could tell from his face that he wasn't gonna go for it. He as pale and scared looking, shaking his head and looking like an animal trapped in a cage. "I need to go."

"Pony…" I tried to calm him down, but he backed away from me.

"If he calls the cops you guys might get in trouble."

"We ain't…"

"I ain't gonna let you lose your family over me." He told me, his voice firm for the first time as he looked up at me. Suddenly I realized that he was stubborn. I hadn't noticed before...what with the concussion and how scared he was. But there was a normal kid under all that fear and worry. I just had to get him to come out. "He hates me enough that he'd get you in trouble to get to me," Ponyboy said, dropping his eyes again.

"How about you come over to my place," Two-Bit suggested. "My mom's home... she'd be glad to meet you. She's always telling me to bring my friends from school over." Pony looked up at that, almost amused.

"How old are you?" He asked, the smile tugging at his lips. I had to smile, glad Two-Bit willing to help. If nothing else, my buddy would be able to cheer him up.

"Don't get mouthy, kid." Two chuckled.

The two left in a hurry, Two-Bit's arm around Ponyboy's shoulders. Darry was silent as he sat in the living room, staring grimly down at the carpet. Steve was on the couch, grinning when I joined him. "Two-Bit can look after him, Soda." He assured me softly. I grunted in agreement, and Darry looked up, sighing.

"You know I don't want to let that kid get hurt, Sodapop," Darry told me quietly, leaning in and meeting my eyes. "Shoot, Aaron's an asshole and he's got no business raising a dog, much less a kid. Ponyboy can sleep over here whenever he needs to." I wasn't mad at my brother. I knew he was afraid of losing custody…of us getting separated and me getting sent to a boy's home. I was afraid of that too. "I just…we can't hide him from his uncle...not if he's gonna call the fuzz."

"I know," I assured him. I didn't want to fight with Darry. I just wanted to help Ponyboy. I didn't blame Darry for worrying, but there had to be something we could do.

"Two-Bit can look after him tonight, and his uncle ain't gonna go there to find him. That asshole's probably passed out by now." Steve assured me.

Darry stood up, sitting beside me on the couch. "We'll find a way to help him out, okay Sodapop?" It was ridiculous how much better that made me feel. My big brother could do anything.

"Yeah." I sat back. "Maybe Dally can get Tim to help out."

"Tim does love blackmailing people…" Steve said, nodding. Darry grinned and I chuckled, hoping Tim would come through. If Ponyboy could get in school, he wouldn't have to spend so much time alone. I thought back to what he'd told me…his mom had killed herself. The kid spent most of his time alone and his uncle beat on him. My stomach dropped a little, and I hoped Tim really was able to help us out.


	8. Company

**Company**

The kid had dropped onto the floor as soon as we'd entered Sodapop's bedroom, huddled under the window, his head on his knees. It reminded me of my little sister when she was little. She'd been scared of storms since she was a baby, and at nine or ten, she'd curl up under her bed in a ball, arms around her knees, shaking as she cried. I'd tried pulling her out or trying to move the bed, but the best way to calm her down was to just crawl under the bed with her and rub her back. She'd put her head on my shoulder, her breathing slowing down until she was back to normal, and then I could usually get her to come out.

She'd done the same thing after our dad had split a few years ago, crawling under her bed and sobbing, her head against her knees. Our mom had been in her room, the door locked, and she hadn't come out all day. I'd wanted to get out…go to the nearest bar and start drinking, not stopping until I couldn't stand up anymore. Maybe take Sodapop and Steve with me. They'd keep an eye out in case I did something stupid.

Instead, I'd knocked on my little sister's bedroom door, stepping inside when she didn't answer. I'd seen his flaws…seen how he'd come home drunk and fight with my mom. I'd seen him coming home late at night, and seen my mom crying as she screamed at him, asking the other woman's name…asking if knew what he was doing to our family. But Susie had idolized him in the same way she idolized me. I knew it wouldn't last forever…one day she'd look at me and realize that her big brother was a drunk and a greaser, but I hoped she'd also remember how much I loved her…how I'd protect her from anything. In the mean time, though, I'd looked around her room, checking the window first to make sure she hadn't crawled out before it dawned on me where to look.

"Suze? Susie?" I'd called, dropping to my knees and finding her under the bed, her back to me, nose to the wall. "Susie? Come on, kiddo. I can't hardly fit under this bed no more." She hadn't answered, shoulders shaking. "Come on, honey. We'll go out to ice cream, just me and you. How's that sound?" She'd ignored me and all my bribes until finally, I'd crawled under the bed, scraping my shoulder on the bedframe. "Susie?"

"He left us." She'd sobbed, and I'd managed to get an arm around her. "Dad left us." I'd hated him then. I'd never hated my dad before. Sure, it bugged me how he treated our mom, but he'd always been pretty good to me and Susie. Holding my baby sister under her bed as she sobbed, though, I swore I'd punch him in the nose if he showed his face around her again.

"Yeah…" I'd put my face against her hair, rubbing a hand over her arm, having to fight back my own tears. Some tough greaser I was. "He did…but I'm still here, honey. I'm right here. I ain't gonna leave you."

"You promise?" She'd asked, rolling over just a little in the tiny space to look at me. I could barely move without bumping my head, my shoulders crammed to fit under her bedframe.

"Yeah, honey. I promise."

This was different though. I wouldn't leave this kid. I wouldn't let his uncle hurt him if I could help it. He'd saved Johnny and he'd taken a beating for it...he looked like he was starving, he was so thin and scared of everybody. So yeah, I was gonna protect him. But Ponyboy hadn't grown up with me. From what I could tell, he'd grown up with a bunch of assholes who'd abused him, beating on him or telling him how much they hated him. I mean, my mom wasn't perfect. She was always working, and when she was home, she sort of let us get away with whatever we wanted. But she loved us, and we never doubted that. She never laid a hand on us, and anytime we needed her, she was there.

I couldn't put my arms around this kid. I couldn't rub his back and tell him it was going to be okay. Maybe one day, when he trusted us better. Just not yet. But I could at least try to help him feel better. The poor kid was shaking on the floor, and, thinking of my sister, I joined him. Sometimes all you could do was be there, so I decided to be there.

Moving slow, I eased down beside Ponyboy, legs stretched out, and put a careful hand on his shoulder. He made a noise like a dog being kicked, and I flinched a little. Kid thought I was gonna hurt him. The first time he'd seen me, his eyes had tracked me like a hurt animal tracks something that's gonna eat it, watching every move I made and straining to get away from me. And sure, I liked to put the fear in socs, but I sure didn't want this hurt kid to be afraid of me.

I put the hand back on his shoulder, squeezing a little. In the other room, we could hear who I assumed was his uncle, mostly calling him a little shit, but we both got the gist. He was scared...that guy had hurt him before and he knew the guy would try again. I patted his back a little, my other hand going into my pocket and pulling out my switch. If it came to it, I'd keep the asshole away myself. "We ain't gonna let that guy hurt you, kid." I assured him quietly.

"What, you gonna kill him?" He wondered, his voice flat.

"What?" I asked, surprised. I mean, I wouldn't mind, long as we didn't get caught. But it was the not getting caught part that was the hardest.

"That's the only way you're gonna stop him...that or kill me." He snorted, like something he said was funny, but I was stunned, my hand still on his back.

"Shut up talking like that kid," I ordered, my voice harder than I liked, but he just sighed, dropping his head back down on his knees. "No one's killing anybody, got me?" I asked. He shrugged, eyes closed. After what felt like hours, the door slammed, and I guessed Darry had gotten rid of the guy. But Ponyboy didn't move. Then Darry's voice floated into the room.

"But if he calls the cops…you know I ain't gonna risk losing you, Sodapop." Pony flinched again, sniffing softly beside me.

"Come on, kiddo, it's gonna be alright." I tried to assure him.

"If my uncle calls the cops, Darrel might lose Sodapop." He told me flatly, not looking up. I hated that he was right…I hated that Darry had to worry about losing Soda. That we all did. If their parents were still alive, they would have taken that kid in, no doubt about it. I mean, the couldn't have adopted him or nothing, but they sure would have looked out for him, same way they'd looked after Johnny.

"It ain't that simple, kid." I tried to tell him, hoping to comfort him.

"Yeah, it is." He looked at me for a second then, his eyes dull and lifeless. "My uncle ain't gonna stop trying to get me if I'm this close. If he has to call the cops to do it, then he will. I ain't gonna let them do that...I ain't gonna let him ruin their lives because of me."

I had to admit, the kid had guts. We could hear Sodapop and Darry arguing in the other room, trying to keep their voices soft. I just patted the kid on the back again. He liked sacrificing himself for other people, apparently, which wasn't much of a surprise considering he'd saved Johnny. I guess it was because no one had ever done it for him. My mind made up, I sat up against the wall, waiting for Sodapop to come in.

The kid agreed with some reluctance to come to my place. He needed to lay down...heck, he probably needed to go to the hospital. But maybe my mom could take a look at him. Then again, I knew nothing about this kid's family...maybe his mom had been terrible too. My mom wasn't though, so I led him out the back and through their yard, taking the long way to my house so that asshole wouldn't look outside and see him. I lived less than a block away, and, my arm around his shoulders, I led him through our front door, letting it slam behind me.

"Keith? Is that you?" My mom called.

"Yeah, mom." Ponyboy lifted an eyebrow at me but I ignored him. "I brought a friend," I told her. She peeked out of the kitchen then her eyes went wide when she caught sight of Ponyboy. The kid did look rough with the black eye and his face all bruised up. His nose was still swollen, too, and his eyes were dull and tired as he leaned on me. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she stepped into the hallway. "Mom, this is Ponyboy Davis. Ponyboy, this is my mom, Shirley Matthews."

"Hello, Ponyboy." She greeted warmly, looking him over critically and shooting me a look.

Ponyboy looked like he wanted to dig himself a hole and tunnel out of here, but he made himself smile, taking the hand she held out while I kept my arm around his shoulders, propping him up a little. "Hi Mrs. Matthews." He shook her hand, struggling to meet her eyes, so I guess he didn't catch the look she threw at me. Her eyes were gentle as she squeezed his hand.

"Why don't you come on in, Ponyboy. I'm making grilled cheese and soup for Susie. I can make some more. You boys can wait in the living room."

Pony started to step forward, swaying just a little. "I can help if…" My mom softened even more, looking troubled.

"No, sweetheart, I have things handled in here. Keith, why don't you introduce him to Susie? Then, if you wouldn't mind, I need you to look at the sink. It's not draining right." I nodded, leading Ponyboy into the living room where my little sister sat on the couch, watching TV. She looked up when we entered, eyes widening.

"Hey, Suse. Ponyboy, this is my little sister, Susan. Susie, this is Ponyboy. He just moved in next door to Darry and Sodapop." She smiled at him, sitting up and holding out a hand. He smiled back, seeming a little more at ease with someone his own age, and shook her hand.

"Hi, Susan."

"Susie." She corrected as always, glancing at me. She'd seen me after enough fights to know he was hurt but she didn't say anything about it. Heck, she'd seen all of us after rumbles. So had my mom, which was why they were both pretty good at first aid.

"I gotta help Mom in the kitchen real quick," I told them, patting Ponyboy on the back. "Take a seat, kiddo. Suse, keep him company, will ya?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Ponyboy hesitated, and then took a seat beside my sister while I headed to the kitchen.

"How old is he?" Mom asked me softly, standing at the stove, flipping a hot sandwich over with a spatula.

I hesitated at the sink, which was draining fine, then leaned against the counter. "Fourteen."

"Who gave him that black eye?"

"Either the guys who jumped him a couple of days ago or his uncle...I'm starting to lose track." She turned to me and lifted an eyebrow, and I sighed. "We met him when he saved Johnny from a couple of the rich kids from the other side of town...they beat the sh...crap out of him. Darrel took care of him...him and Sodapop patched him up. But when he went home, his uncle started in on him...I think he's the one that split his lip. The kid was hiding out at Darry's today when his uncle came looking for him, so I brought him here." She nodded, glancing at the door. "He ain't gonna come here," I assured her. "He didn't see me bring him over, and even if he did, I'll take the baseball bat to him if he shows his face at our door." She gave me a weak smile, placing the sandwich on a plate and starting another.

"There's an ice pack in the freezer. Go ahead and grab it for him. Lunch is almost ready…do you think he's hungry?" She glanced back toward the doorway again.

"He had a sandwich earlier but the kid looks like he's starving, so I'll bet he can eat again."

"Is he in school?"

"Not yet." She hummed in disapproval, just like I knew she would. It was the one thing she'd asked of me. Graduate from high school...it was the most important thing to her. Susie was set to maybe skip a grade she was so good in school...heck, she might even graduate before I did, but I was gonna graduate high school if it killed me. Reaching into the freezer, I pulled out the ice pack.

"How bad is he?" She asked, making me pause. "His uncle?"

"Real bad." I murmured, touching her arm as I headed back to the living room, pausing when I heard my sister's soft voice.

"How old are you?" She asked. I smiled a little, leaning against the wall to listen. One thing about my kid sister, she wasn't shy. Maybe I'd get some information from him after all.

"Fourteen," Ponyboy told her, his voice softer than hers.

"I'm gonna be thirteen next month. When's your birthday?"

"About a week ago." I blinked in surprise...he hadn't mentioned that. I mean, we hadn't asked...still, what a shitty birthday. He said it matter-of-factly, though, so I wondered if all his birthdays hadn't been shitty.

"You in school here yet?"

"Not yet." I stepped in then, dropping on the couch beside Ponyboy and handing him the ice pack. He pressed it against his face, wincing a little.

"What happened to your face?" She finally asked. I glared at her.

"That's none of your business," I told her, a warning in my voice. Her eyes widened and she put her hands up.

"Sorry." She grumbled, rolling her eyes like only a preteen girl could. I wondered if Darry knew how lucky he was that Sodapop wasn't a girl.

"It's fine. I got jumped." Ponyboy told her, smiling again. He seemed pretty calm with her...more at ease that he had been with the guys. I guess 'cause he figured she wouldn't hurt him.

"Who by?" She wondered.

He shrugged. "Don't know. Couple of guys…"

"Some socs were beating on Johnny and Ponyboy here saved him." I put in, ruffling his hair. He pulled away, smirking, and I grinned, counting it as a victory. He had relaxed…even just a little bit. I'd take it. But he still didn't look too good…he was pale, and he couldn't seem to focus on the TV show my sister had been watching. His eyes kept closing and he'd jerk awake, seeming to struggle to keep the ice pack on his face.

Mom brought in our sandwiches and soup, waving Ponyboy away when he offered to help again, despite the fact that he barely seemed to be able to sit up on his own, swaying a little and dropping back against the sofa. Then she sat in her chair with us, her eyes drifting to Ponyboy every few minutes. She was the same way with Johnny when I'd have him over, fussing a little and making sure to feed him. Ponyboy wasn't as comfortable with her as Johnny, though, and we could all tell. The kid didn't really seem comfortable with anyone, though.

Ponyboy hesitated, glancing at all of us before touching his sandwich. He'd told her he wasn't really hungry as soon as she sat the plate down, and she ignored him, so, after a few minutes, he took a bite. He ate slower than the rest of us, always looking over at me or Susie who sat beside him, like one of us were gonna take it away from him. I didn't even want to think about why he'd expect that.

When my mom went to do the dishes, Ponyboy offered again to help, and I nudged him a little, making sure to be gentle. "Quit, kid. You're making me look bad." I teased. He gave me a hesitant look, then smiled, the look coming slowly as he realized I was kidding. "You want some aspirin or something?" I asked softly, glad when Susie headed to her room. I expected him to say no, but he gave me a kind of sheepish look.

"If…if you don't mind…" He murmured. I squeezed his shoulder then jumped up.

"Sure thing, kiddo. Be right back."

My mom glanced up from where she stood at the sink, scrubbing a plate when I stepped into the kitchen again. "Is he staying here tonight?"

"I'm gonna try and get him to, yeah...if that's alright." She nodded like I knew she would. Heck, if she could, she'd install Johnny permanently on that sofa. Looked like she had another kid to look out for now.

"Good. He needs a safe place to sleep." She watched me reach into the medicine cabinet, lips pressed together. "Does he need a doctor?" I gave her the best smile I could manage. We could barely afford to keep enough food in the house, but if I told her that the stray I'd brought home needed a doctor, she'd make a way.

"Darry was worried about his head, but I think he'll be okay." I assured her.

"Keep an eye on him." She ordered, as though I wasn't going to do that already. I chuckled.

"Way ahead of you, mom."

"Good." She smiled then, touching my arm when I passed. "He's lucky to have you as a friend, Keith." I snorted, ducking my head and grinning.

"Come on, ma. You're gonna embarrass me in front of my friends." I teased and she leaned in, kissing my cheek.

"Let me know if you need help with anything, sweetheart." With that, she headed into her own room. Susie stayed in her room too, even though I knew she was still curious about our guest. When it was the guys over, she'd bug them with questions they'd answer with varying degrees of indulgence, with Darry being the best and Steve the worst, until I'd shoo her off. Surprisingly, Dallas was right up there with Darry for being patient with her, despite him spouting off about how he hated kids. She didn't know this guy, though, and I think she realized he was different, so she gave us some space.

I pulled out a deck of cards after giving him the aspirin, and he played poker with me for a game or two. He was getting better thanks to Sodapop, but he still wasn't great, not that I minded. When he got stuck, I'd remind him of the rules, and he did his best to keep up, but I could tell it was awful hard on him to keep up with the game.

"You know I gotta go home eventually, right?" He mumbled at one point, blinking hard and doing his best to concentrate on the cards. I sighed, playing with the cards in my hand and staring down at our table before looking back at the kid on my couch.

"How about you sleep here tonight, kiddo?" I suggested. I wasn't about to hold him hostage or nothing, but I wanted him to stay over, at least for a night. The kid was hurt, and he deserved to get a night's sleep without being scared of that nutjob. And maybe the guy would sleep it off. "You can sleep on the couch. I gotta take my sister to school in the morning, but you can hang out here if you want tomorrow."

"I can sleep at home." He muttered, rubbing his head a little, but we both knew he was lying. If he went home right now, his uncle would go after him. Maybe harder than he had before. And if this kid got knocked on the head again, he might really get hurt. Like, need to go to the hospital kind of hurt. And yeah, my mom really would find a way to pay for it, but it would be rough. Besides, I had a feeling things could get out of control with his uncle really fast. What if no one got there in time? It was a question that left a sick feeling in my gut. It was dumb...the kid had survived with him this long. Still, it worried me, the same way Johnny's old man worried me sometimes. Yeah, they'd probably be okay, but it wasn't right, two young kids having to live with that.

I made my voice gentle when I reasoned with him again. "Come on, kid. You and I both know that guy's gonna hurt you if you got home right now. Just...stick around here for a day or two. Get some rest." I urged. He stared down at his lap, and I squeezed his shoulder.

For a long time, he was quiet, jaw tight. Damn, he looked bad...pale and all busted up. Then he glanced up at me, his eyes barely meeting mine. "If...if you're sure it's okay." He murmured, ears red, and I grinned, relishing the victory.

"I'm sure, Ponyboy."

Nodding, he sat back against the back of the couch and stared down at his lap before I shuffled the cards again, passing a few to him. "You don't have to entertain me…ain't you got homework or something?" He asked, running a hand over his face, seeming to sway a little more as he ignored the cards.

I snorted at the question. "No, I ain't got homework," I assured him, jumping up and turning the TV on. He couldn't seem to concentrate on a card game anymore, so I reached out, taking the ones in front of him on the table and putting them together again, rubber-banding the deck and shoving them in my pocket. It took a minute for him to realize the cards weren't there anymore and I felt my stomach drop a little. Darry had been worried about his head, and now I was too.

"You don't wanna play anymore?" He asked, tired eyes on me.

"Nah." I told him, affecting calm. "Why don't you just watch some TV and rest, kiddo? You've taken too many blows to the head." He blinked, touching his head and flinching a little. "It hurt?"

"It aint too bad." He obviously lied. "If you wana go out or…" He started.

"I'm fine, kid." I assured him, shaking my head. I wasn't leaving him alone, and he sure couldn't do anything more strenuous than sitting on the couch.

"But it's only, like, 2 in the afternoon. You ain't gotta hang around here all day. Weren't you and the other guys gonna go somewhere?" He asked, looking kind of upset.

I shrugged. He was right…usually I'd spend my Sundays drinking or hanging out with the guys. Before Sodapop had helped the kid, we'd planned on going out to a bar or maybe heading to Tim's side of town to hunt down a poker game. But I didn't want to leave the kid at my place by himself. He'd probably be uncomfortable and besides, I'd volunteered to look after him. Plus he might take off, and I sure didn't need this kid wandering the streets.

Before I could really answer him, though, he got a weird look on his face, blinking a few times, and I reached out, a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Kid? You okay?" He pressed a hand to his mouth then, jaw tight, and, having plenty of experience sitting with Susie when she was sick, I grabbed the trash can and held it under his mouth while he threw up, his whole body heaving. I rubbed his back, catching the garbage can when he would have dropped it, his eyes drooping as he slumped forward before I caught him too, moving to sit on the sofa beside him.

In the hallway, Susie peeked out of her bedroom, eyes wide, and I pointed a finger at her. "Back in your room." I mouthed. No way this kid would want some strange girl watching him get sick. She gave him another worried look but did as I said, shutting her door soft enough that he wouldn't hear her. "Hey, you alright, kiddo?" He groaned a little, looking up at me but not really seeming to see me. "Easy, kid. There's that concussion Darry was worried about."

He brought a hand up to his head and I eased him back, putting the trash can down between his feet. "Be right back, Ponyboy," I promised quietly, going into the bathroom and grabbing two washcloths, wetting one with cold water and heading back into the living room. My mom stood in the kitchen doorway, lips pressed together as I put the wet rag on his forehead, then handed him the dry one. "You feeling okay, kiddo?" I asked as he wiped his mouth, then my mom appeared at my side, a glass of water in her hand.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" She asked, pressing the glass of water into his hand. He blinked hard, nodding his head and taking a drink, then wiped his face off.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Matthews." He murmured instead of answering. She brushed some of his hair back and he flinched like she was gonna hit him.

"Oh honey, don't worry about the trash can. Keith has thrown up in that things more times than I can count." He managed a half smile at that, but he still looked awful sick. I knew concussions could be tricky…one second you feel fine and the next you're puking your guts out and trying not to fall over. With all that had happened to him over the last couple of days, I was surprised the kid was conscious at all. I guess he had a hard head.

My mom went and got another ice pack then, coming back and placing it against his swelling nose. "Would you like some more water, sweetheart?" She asked. I watched her taking care of him, more grateful than ever that I had her.

"No thanks…I'm okay." He assured her. It wasn't real convincing, considering he was the color of milk, reclining back against the back of the couch, his eyes barely open.

"Alright." She put a hand on his forehead, then brushed his hair back again. "Keith, I've got to head to work, okay?"

I nodded, smiling when she kissed the top of my head and called out a goodbye to Susie. Then she leaned in, her eyes on Ponyboy whose eyes had closed and hadn't yet reopened. "If he needs a hospital, take him. We'll figure out the money." She instructed in a whisper.

As soon as she was out the door, Susie was leaving her room, a purse on her shoulder. "Where you think you're going?" I asked, not that I ever kept her from going anywhere…she pretty much did as she pleased, and no one bugged her. It was different for her…socs usually didn't go around messing with girls from our side of town. They knew what we'd do to them.

"I'm gonna meet Kelly and Sherri. We're going to the movies."

"Alright. I'll be here. Call if you need anything."

"Sure. See you, Ponyboy!" She called on her way to the door. He managed to nod, giving her a weak, sick-looking smile, then closed his eyes again when she shut the door.

"Your family's real nice." Ponyboy murmured all of a sudden. I grabbed a couch cushion, putting it against the arm of our sofa, and after I put some pressure on his shoulder, he leaned back against it, the wet rag still resting on his head.

"Yeah," I told him, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch. Poor kid needed to sleep. "So…did you live with your parents before moving in with the asshole?" I wondered. His lips twitched in a smile for a second at my nickname for his uncle.

"Uh, I lived with my grandfather before Aaron. When I was little, I lived with my mom." He told me, eyes still closed.

"Yeah?"

"What does your mom do?" He asked then, apparently wanting to change the subject, opening his eyes and looking at me. I figured he'd be okay with some rest, but really, what did I know? We'd all had concussions before, but he'd had two people hit him in the head right in a row. Sitting in the chair beside him, I leaned in, up for some small talk if it got him to go to sleep. He'd been up for long enough after the concussion that I figured he'd be okay. Then again, what did I know? I was still a junior at eighteen. But he didn't look like he could stay up much longer anyway.

"Works at a restaurant," I told him. Actually, it was a bar, but some people got weird when I told them that. He just nodded, laying back under the blanket and fighting his closing eyes. "She stayed home before my dad left." That got his attention and he glanced over at me. "He split a few years back. Darry and Soda's parents helped us out a lot…their mom especially. They were great, you know? Helped us get groceries and had us over for dinner…their mom and mine were good friends." He hummed, jaw tight.

For a long time, he was silent, and I divided my attention between him and the TV, wondering if he'd fallen asleep. Then he glanced up at me, speaking slowly and sounding almost worried. "I…I'm…I'm sorry. About your dad. Mine split too…I mean, I was real little. Don't even remember him. He died when I was a little kid after he'd left." He swallowed hard, staring at my ceiling, the soft drone of the TV in the background. "Your mom…she's great. I wish my mom had been like her."

Stunned, I just stared at him for a minute. "What was she like?" I finally asked, keeping my voice soft. I was afraid I already knew, but I still felt like I had to ask…to know for sure. He hesitated, biting down on his lip.

"She didn't want me." He whispered it, and I clenched my jaw when I saw the tear drip from the side of his eye, running down his face to the couch cushion.

"Aw, kiddo…I'm sure she did." I murmured lamely, putting a hand on his shoulder. I didn't know that. I had no idea if it were true. But it seemed like it ought to be. He shook his head, though, biting down on his lip, then adjusting the ice pack on his face.

"She didn't…" He wiped at the tear, brushing it away and probably hoping I hadn't seen. I sure wasn't gonna say anything about it. "She told me." His voice broke a little and he closed his eyes then, apparently giving up the fight with the tears. I just gripped his shoulder, wishing I knew what to say to that. In the end, I didn't say anything, and he fell asleep on my couch. Reaching over and shutting off the lamp, I settled back into the chair to keep an eye on him.


	9. Guest

**Guest**

Glory but I felt awful. My head was spinning and I'd thrown up in this guy's house after he'd let me come over. He and his family had been real nice to me and I was getting sick in their trash and barely able to hold a conversation or play cards when he was being good enough to try and play cards with me. I couldn't believe how nice his mom was…how easy she let me into her house and tried to help me feel better and even seemed worried about me. When was the last time a grown-up had worried about me? I mean, I guess Darrel was a grown up, but he didn't really seem like one. Not like Two-Bit's mom.

Two-Bit didn't need to babysit me. I'd been dizzy and tired like this before after Aaron had hit me. Plenty of times actually. But Darrel had been the same, asking if I was feeling sick or anything, and they had all been watching me real close at Darrel's house. It was nice of 'em and everything, but it wasn't necessary. I looked out for myself. I always had. Besides, what happened when they got sick of looking after me? Or when I made one of 'em mad? But I hadn't been able to think too much about that…or anything really. My head swam and Two-Bit had pushed me back to lay on his couch, so I had. Then when he'd asked about my mom, I'd told him the truth, which was an awful stupid thing to do. If my own mom hadn't wanted me, there had to be something wrong with me. They'd figure that out soon enough. For the moment, though, I just closed my eyes and let myself sleep.

As I slept, I thought I heard voices, and instinctively I stayed real still, half awake and terrified. "…throwing up…wasn't looking too…at work…" I only caught fragments of Two-Bit's words but wasn't able to put them together. "Yeah…I think he…"

I'd become a light sleeper living with my uncle for the last few years. Sometimes he'd come into my room at night and start yelling or throw something at me when I was asleep. There wasn't much of a pattern to his behavior, really, as much as I'd tried to find one. I just avoided him whenever possible, but mostly when he drank. The new house was good because he hadn't broken the lock on my door yet. We'd see how long that lasted. As I dozed at Two-Bit's house, though, no one yelled and even the TV volume was kept low.

"Kiddo, you awake?" I heard someone ask. I stayed real still, keeping my breathing low. Aaron bothered me the least when I was asleep, or pretending to sleep, even though I wasn't always safe even then. A wet cloth was placed on my brow and I wondered if I had a fever. A new ice pack was placed on the side of my face too, and I shivered from the cold, only to have the blanket pulled up around me, and a hand patted my shoulder. It was surreal…it had to be Two-Bit I guessed because his mom and sister were gone. Was this what friends did for each other?

"Thank you." I murmured it, my voice so quiet even I could barely hear it, but he squeezed my shoulder, and there was a smile in his voice.

"Sure thing, Ponyboy. Get some more sleep."

"Time is it?" I asked, not opening my eyes. I was still awful tired.

"Almost nine." I tried to open my eyes then, but it was harder than I'd expected. Sleep was trying to pull me back in.

"You don't gotta stay with me all night, Two-Bit." I tried to assure him. Then again, maybe he didn't want me alone in his house. "I won't touch nothing," I promised. He sounded upset when he spoke again after a long pause.

"Shoot, kiddo, I ain't worried about that." He said, adjusting the wet cloth on my forehead and running his fingers through my hair like Sodapop had. "You need to get some more sleep. I'm fine. Don't worry about me." I wanted to reply, but my head swam and I couldn't focus on the conversation for any longer, so I closed my eyes and let it take me.

The nightmares had started when I was seven or eight and living with my grandfather. Sometimes I couldn't remember them, and I'd wake up screaming in the middle of the night, waking either my angry grandfather or, later, my furious, vindictive uncle. My grandfather would usually just bang on my door and scream at me to shut up. My uncle wasn't nearly as forgiving. The worst nightmares, though, were the ones I could remember…the ones that had actually happened.

I'd woken up in the middle of the night. I can't remember what woke me up...maybe a noise outside. Mom and I had lived in an apartment on the second floor at the time...a place we'd only moved into a few months earlier, right after my seventh birthday. Before, we'd lived down the street from her father, but I think something happened to her job...she lost it or quit or something. Ever since she'd spent all of her time in the bedroom, the lights out as she'd watched the sitting TV on her dresser. I'd tried to climb into bed with her sometimes...to get her to make dinner or take me to the park. She'd just pushed me away, telling me to go play in that listless voice she'd had for as long as I could remember. Sometimes, when she was asleep, I'd lay on the bed beside her, curling up under her arm and pretending she was holding me. Usually, I'd wake up alone, finding her in the living room, curled up on the sofa under a blanket asleep.

In the dream, it started with me walking down a hall…a long, dark hall like the one at my grandfather's house, but in real life, it had been a short hallway. This one was lined with wood panels and old pictures of birds she'd drawn. She was an artist before I was born. Never made much money, but she loved it. It was the only thing that had really made her smile, coming to her with my notebook and asking her to teach me to draw something. Birds were here favorites. She said they were so free.

The blue curtain, made of plastic and covered in cartoon fish, had been drawn around the bathtub and I'd stood in the doorway for a long time, sure there was a monster in the bathtub. My heart had hammered in my chest as I'd just stood there, frozen, waiting for it to jump out at me. Then I'd edged my way forward, swallowing hard. In my dream, I'd called out for my mom, but really I'd been silent when I'd reached out, pulling the curtain to the side in one fast jerk.

She'd been wearing her bathrobe over a pair of pink, fuzzy pajamas, her slippers sitting beside the bathtub on the floor. In my nightmare, her eyes opened and her head rolled toward me, waking me instantly, the scream caught in my throat, and when I stared at the ceiling, I felt hot tears trail down the side of my face. I left them, closing my eyes again and trying not to start sobbing lest I wake someone, one hand firmly over my mouth to keep the noise in. I missed her so bad and she hadn't even wanted me. That thought only made it worse, and my chest got tight as I rolled over, hiding my face in the couch cushion. Suddenly I was thinking about Sodapop…he'd lost his parents too. Did he ever have nightmares about them, or was he too old? When he did, would Darrel sit with him? Tell him it was gonna be okay? Darrel seemed like he'd do just about anything for his little brother. Sodapop was so lucky.

In reality, I couldn't remember the next few hours after finding my mom in the bathtub...apparently I'd called my grandfather, but that had been hours later, and the next thing I remember was sitting on a hospital bed, nurses running back and forth as they made phone calls and talked quietly to one another. Actually, everything between finding her and reading a book one day in my new room at my grandfather's house was all a distant blur…one I didn't really want to think about.

I swung my feet over the edge of the sofa and sat up, wiping my eyes. The Matthews' carpet felt thick and soft under my bare feet, and I rubbed a hand down my face, yawning and stretching a little, trying to ignore the tight pain in my chest. The little clock on top of the TV told me it was 2 in the morning. I couldn't help but notice that I was feeling better…my head was mostly clear and even though I was groggy, nothing hurt too much anymore. I touched my nose gently…tender but not as bad as before. It would probably heal crooked. I took the washcloth and the ice pack and padded into the kitchen, dropping them gently in the sink, glad for something to do but wishing I had a cigarette.

I stared down at the sink for a moment, hands braced on the counter. I wasn't as sick anymore, but I still felt weird. Maybe because I'd slept for so long and was still tired. I wondered if my uncle was still looking for me, or if he'd moved on to other things. Like more drinking. Thinking about his drinking made me realize how thirsty I was and, hoping it wouldn't make anyone mad, I opened their cabinets until I found the glasses. Two-Bit had said he wasn't worried about me touching anything…maybe they wouldn't care as long as I was careful.

After filling the glass with somewhat cold water from the sink, I gulped it down, sighing in relief once it was all gone. I supposed I hadn't had anything to drink since I'd fallen asleep…something like 10 hours ago. I wished I was brave enough to take a couple of slices of bread to appease my growling stomach, but since I wasn't, I filled the glass again. It was a trick I'd learned early on...if you drank enough water, you stopped feeling so hungry.

Soft footsteps made me jump, and I gripped the glass, desperate not to drop it. Bad things happened when I broke things. I spun around guiltily, expecting Two-Bit to be standing there. It was his mom, though, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, smiling a little, and I felt my ears get red. She was probably around 40 with long, curly red hair just like Two-Bit's, tall and pretty and friendly looking. "I'm sorry...did I wake you up?" I asked, the apology automatic. She just softened, leaning in the doorway.

"You didn't wake me, sweetheart. I just got home about an hour ago. Haven't gone to bed yet." She told me gently. Two-Bit had mentioned that she worked in a restaurant and I guess he meant a bar. "I was just thirsty, I guess. Thought I'd make some toast and get a glass of water."

I hurried out of her way, watching as she filled her own glass with water from the sink, then headed back to the living room. I mean…I didn't think she was gonna hit me or nothing. She didn't seem the type. But…it was best to be out of the way. "Think you're up to keeping me company?" She asked, making me pause in my tracks. I looked at her hesitantly, trying to read that smile.

It was her house, and she'd let some strange kid sleep on her sofa. If she wanted me to keep her company, I guess I could do that. "Um...okay. Sure." I murmured, pausing in the doorway.

"Would you like some toast?" She asked, pulling out a few slices of bread. I shook my head automatically even though just the thought made my stomach growl angrily. If she heard, she didn't give it away.

"No thanks...that's okay." She gave me a once-over, then pulled out more bread.

"Okay. I'm just going to make a few extra pieces, just in case." She nodded toward a kitchen chair, and I took a seat, moving slowly, my eyes on her back as I sat. She placed the pieces in the toaster two at a time while I stared at the tabletop in the dim room. Light shown in from the window since the moon was pretty bright, but I wondered why she didn't want to turn on the light. 

"So, Ponyboy, huh?" She smiled as she said my name and I got ready for it, tensing a little. "I have to admit when my friend told me she was letting her husband name their baby 'Sodapop,' I was skeptical. But it sure seems to fit him somehow, huh?" She asked, glancing back at me.

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It does."

"I think Ponyboy fits you too." She told me, nodding to herself at something. "Do you think you'll be going to school soon?" She wondered, changing the subject.

"Um...whenever my uncle gets me registered," I told her.

"Did you like your last school?"

"It was okay." I murmured. The toast popped out of the toaster and she placed two more pieces inside. Opening the icebox, she pulled out the butter and put it on the table.

"What grade are you in?" She wondered, pulling out two plates from the cabinet.

"Ninth," I told her.

"Oh. They were talking about bumping Susie up a grade. She'd be in the same grade." She told me with a smile. I just nodded, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I didn't know what I was supposed to be saying. I didn't keep people company, especially not grown-ups. My own mom had never wanted my company...I didn't understand why Two-Bit's mom would. That thought brought the dream back and I prayed I wouldn't start crying, not in front of this nice stranger who was giving me a place to sleep.

She was quiet for a moment, then placed a pile of toast in the middle of the table, all of it hot and covered in butter. There were four slices...she placed a plate with two slices at the other side of the table, taking a seat across from me. I just stared at the food...toast had been one of the first things I'd learned to make. Toast. Sandwiches. Hot dogs. My stomach growled and my eyes got hot as I stared at the table. I didn't get it. Why? Were all adults cruel just by nature? Or was it me? Did I bring it out in people?

Mrs. Matthews ate without looking at me for a minute, gazing out the window, the moon making her face pale. My hands itched to take the food but I didn't dare. My grandfather had played this game before. Put food on the table and eat it in front of you. My eyes started to water and I hated myself for acting like a baby. I sniffed a little and wiped at my eyes, and then she looked up at me.

I don't know how she guessed it but she did. Immediately. "No one here would do that to you." She told me softly, putting down her bread and sounding heartbroken. I blinked, confused. "Put food on the table that you're not allowed to eat. Not me, not Keith…heck, none of those boys. They're good kids, all of them, and they'd share just about anything they had with you." I smiled a little, staring at the table as I thought about someone calling Dallas the tough blond hood a 'good boy.' I wondered for a moment how he'd react if I tried it, figuring I'd probably lose a tooth. She laughed at the look I was giving her table. "Okay, so some of them are a little rough around the edges, but they look out for their friends." She amended. "Go ahead and eat the toast, Ponyboy. No one's gonna take it away from you. I made it for you."

"Thank you," I mumbled, nibbling at the first piece of toast, kind of embarrassed but more hungry than anything. Then I ate the second, and by the third, I was practically inhaling it. She stood up, then put a glass of milk in front of me, her hand resting briefly on my head in a way that reminded me of Darrel. He did that a lot when he walked by...it wasn't bad or nothing. It was kind of nice...to have someone touch you without hurting you.

"How long have you lived with your uncle?" She wondered, sitting back down. I took a swallow of the milk, surprised to realize I was almost full.

"Um...a couple of years."

"Oh. Who did you live with before?"

"My grandfather."

"And your parents?" She asked.

"My dad left when I was really little...then my mom killed herself." I don't know what made me say it so bluntly. Guess I was just tired. Everyone at my old school had already known. It had never been much of a secret. Once my uncle had been mad because I'd...honestly I couldn't remember what I'd done. But he'd told me that my mom had killed herself to get away from me, and no matter how much I told myself it wasn't true, I was always waiting for someone else to make the connection.

She blinked, eyes wide, then reached out and touched the hand that was on the table. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She murmured, patting the back of my hand. I fought the urge to pull away, telling myself that she wasn't gonna hurt me. Even if she did, I could always run. "That's awful…" She shook her head, looking down at her table for a moment. Uncomfortable, I grabbed my plate and took it to the sink, washing it, then taking hers and washing it, just glad to be doing something other than sitting at a table and hearing her tell me how sorry she was. She thanked me softly, staying where she was in her chair.

I stood in front of the sink for a moment, staring down at the silver basin again. Now that I wasn't hungry anymore, I was starting to get sleepy. I heard her move behind me and turned around when she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Go ahead and get some sleep, Ponyboy. I have to go out in morning, and Keith and Susie need to go to school, but you can stay here as long as you want."

"Thank you, Mrs. Matthews." I murmured, then headed back to the couch where I fell asleep instantly, dreaming once more about my mother. But this time, she sat across from me and took my hand. I woke up crying in the pillow, blinking and wiping my eyes as I stared at the back of the couch. It wasn't fair. I knew that…had for a long time. But it hit me again as I cried into a pillow for the second time in a few hours. It wasn't fair that my mom hadn't wanted me…that no one did. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve it…I'd just been a kid!

Wiping my eyes and closing them again, I forced myself to stop thinking about it before I went crazy. Life wasn't fair. I sure knew that by now. And things were better here than they had been in Kansas. People didn't know me. There were people next door who were nice. Heck, there were people here who'd let me sleep on their sofa even though I was a stranger. So maybe things would be better. It was stupid to hope, but it was a trap I fell into every time. Counting sheep had never worked for me, so I thought about the guys who lived next door to me, wondering what it would be like to have a good family like that until I finally fell asleep again.

"Come on, Keith! We're gonna be late." I jerked awake, yanked from a dreamless sleep and felt a tiny rush of irritation. Susie was a nice girl, but she was awful loud. Hours of interrupted sleep had done me good, but I was still tired for some reason.

"Hush, will ya? Ponyboy's still asleep." Her brother hissed. I wasn't, but my self-preservation told me to pretend to be, so I did, keeping my ears open.

"Keith…" The girl whined a little, this time quietly. Finally, she sighed, and I heard her footsteps come closer. I stayed still, fighting to keep my breathing even and feeling like an animal in the zoo or something, being stared at. "Is he gonna be okay?" She asked then, more serious, and I heard Two-Bit's voice a little closer.

"Sure he will." He murmured, and a hand touched my head, pushing some hair back out of my face. "Now come on. We're gonna be late." There was a grin in his voice and I heard her incredulous rebuttal as they headed outside, the door shutting softly behind them.

As soon as the car pulled out of the driveway, I sat up, rubbing my eyes and stretching, immediately spotting the bottle of aspirin and the banana on the coffee table next to a bottle of soda. Grinning, I swallowed the aspirin and scarfed down the banana. Then I used the bathroom, wishing I could take a shower but knowing I needed to go home to do that. Figuring my uncle would be gone by then, I left the Matthews' house, shutting the door gently behind me, then headed down the street.

It had been nice staying with friendly people, but I sure wasn't gonna let myself get used to it. I felt better, and now I could go back to taking care of myself. If I was gonna keep away from the house, I'd need a few things. Like a change of clothes. And maybe a blanket. There was probably a throw blanket I could use somewhere. I could sleep in the lot and stop bugging these people. I'd be fine with a blanket and some food for a day or two, and I could sneak in during the day like before. It would be fine. And eventually, my uncle would ease up on the drinking for a little while and then things would go back to normal. For a while.

The driveway was empty, so I hurried inside, sparing a glance at the house next door. No one seemed to be home, so I gave that thought up, practically sprinting inside. Even if they had been, they'd done enough for me. I didn't need to start relying on other people to keep me safe from my uncle. Sure it was nice, but they had their own lives to live and no way they'd want to take in some strange kid from next door. So why did my mind keep on going back to them?

Realizing that my uncle was most likely at work and that I had the rest of the day free of him, I grabbed a change of clothes and jumped in the shower. I hated being dirty and wearing old, gross clothes, which was part of why I hated it when my uncle was on one of his benders. As I soaped up my hair, I wondered if I'd have time to do a load of laundry. I wasn't sure what time he was supposed to be home. Maybe he'd stay out late and I could spend the day inside.

When I'd spent almost a half hour getting cleaned up, I dried off and dressed in a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt, looking at my face in the mirror real good for the first time. My eyes were both pretty bruised, but the ice pack had taken care of the swelling. My nose was a little crooked and bruised too, but not as bad as I'd thought. I looked like I'd taken a couple of punches to the face, but I'd looked worse, so I wasn't worried. I brushed my teeth real good then, washing my mouth out and swallowing some more water, figuring I'd grab whatever cereal was left for breakfast. I'd need to go to the grocery soon, but that involved swiping money from Aaron, which was always dangerous. I made sure to buy beer when I did it, which kept me safe usually, but I dreaded the day he decided to get mad about it.

I was on my way to my bedroom, arms full of laundry to dump in my hamper, when I caught sight of the man I didn't recognize sitting on our sofa in the living room, his feet propped on the coffee table, reading the newspaper.


	10. Talks

**Talks**

The guy glanced up at me over the newspaper, then put it down, folding it deliberately and placing it on the coffee table. Shifting his feet off the table, he sat up, then crossed his arms, his eyes going from the top of my head, lingering on my face, then moving down until he'd looked me over completely, nodding a little to himself like he was confirming something. He was a tall guy, not as tall as Darrel, but tough looking. "Hey, kid." He greeted simply, like he spent all of his spare time in my living room., reading my uncle's newspaper.

I swallowed hard, glancing over at the front door and wondering if I could make it, feeling like my whole body was vibrating. Was he a friend of my uncle's, or had my uncle already managed to piss someone off? I wasn't sure which one would be worse. The guy snorted a little, pushing himself up and holding out a hand, his lips curled up in an amused smile. "Calm down, kid. I'm Tim Shephard, a buddy of Dally's."

I blinked a few times, trying to remember that name, then it clicked. Steve had told me about him...he ran a real gang in another part of town. Said him and his friends weren't a gang like Tim Shephard's outfit even though they rumbled sometimes. So this guy was in a gang. A real one. I felt even more nervous, but I sure didn't want to offend him, so I took the hand he held out hesitantly, shaking it. "Ponyboy Davis." I introduced myself and he nodded, looking me over but not saying anything about my name.

"Heard you saved Johnny Cade."

"Yeah." I murmured.

"That where you got all those bruises?" He asked.

"Yeah." I lied. He lifted an eyebrow.

"All of them?" I shrugged, not willing to answer that. He snorted. "That's what I thought. You know where your uncle is?"

"Work, I guess." He smirked.

"He's gonna take off for a few hours. Should be on his way home now." I paled, glancing at the door again.

"How come?" I asked.

"His boss owes me a favor." He smirked. "Don't worry, kid. He ain't gonna do nothing to ya." I lifted an eyebrow, wondering why this guy was in our house and how he thought he could guarantee that.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Cause it would be rude to start beating on a kid when I'm trying to talk to him, and I don't take too well to rude people." His grin reminded me of a tiger or something, friendly enough on the surface, but I got the feeling he'd tear my throat out if I crossed him. I hummed in agreement, my eyes going back to the door. "You can split if you want, Ponyboy. I ain't gonna hurt you or nothing." He assured me. I just shrugged, and he eyed the laundry under my arm. "Or you could dump that…" I blinked down at the clothes I was still holding and nodded.

"Right…" Hurrying back into my bedroom, I dropped my clothes into my hamper and then stood there for a moment, wondering why he was even there. To talk to my uncle? Why? Why would one of Dallas's friends care about my uncle?

Heading back into the living room, I found Tim had made himself comfortable once more, feet on the coffee table, but he hadn't picked up the paper. I hovered in the doorway, watching, and he smirked again. "You, uh...you want something to drink?" I asked, crossing my arms. The smirk turned to a smile of real amusement and he chuckled a little.

"Beer if you think your uncle can spare one." I nodded, heading into the kitchen, grabbing him one and popping the cap, then handing it to him. "You know, I got a brother about your age. How old are you?" He wondered, then took a long drink.

"Fourteen." He nodded toward the chair and, hesitantly, I took a seat.

"My kid brother, Curly, I swear he gets locked up every other week." He took another drink of the beer. "You ever been arrested?" He asked with the air of someone expecting the answer to be no. I shook my head. "You're a good kid, huh?" He asked. He didn't sound like he was judging me, or making fun of me neither...just stated it as fact. I shrugged.

"I don't know...I guess."

"You fight much?" He wondered.

"No…"

"What made you jump in and save the Cade kid?"

"He was yelling for help," I told him, giving him the same answer I'd given Steve. He hummed, draining the rest of the beer just as a truck pulled in the driveway. I stiffened, jumping to my feet as his truck door slammed. I glanced over at Tim who hadn't moved except to pull his leather jacket back a little, and for the first time, I noticed the gun. I felt my eyes widen as they went from the gun to his amused grin. At least he was having fun. "Are you gonna kill him?" I asked, not too bothered by the idea, but kind of scared. If someone killed my uncle, what would happen to me? I guess I'd get sent to a boy's home...glory, that sounded worse than living with the asshole. I mean, he could have been there to kill me, but I figured that if he'd wanted to do that, he'd have gotten me already.

"Do you want me to?" He asked seriously as my uncle stomped up the porch stairs. I looked between him and the door, honestly torn. He met my eyes, and I could have sworn he understood just as the door was thrown open.

My uncle threw me a nasty glare, taking a step toward where I was standing, then froze as he caught sight of Tim. "What the hell?" He asked as Tim pulled himself lazily to his feet, holding out a hand.

"Tim Shepherd." He introduced himself, stepping around me. I moved out of his way, choosing to stand behind Tim…I trusted him more than my uncle at the moment. My uncle just stared at the hand and Tim dropped it, shoving it in his pockets. "You just started work at the refinery, right?"

"Yeah, now who the hell…"

"I just wanted to have a talk with you." He interrupted. Tim was giving my uncle that dangerous smile, and I glanced at Aaron to see how he was taking this. He threw me a glare.

"What are you looking at, you little shit?" He snapped, and Tim moved a little, blocking me from his view.

"Don't worry about the kid right now. We need to have that talk." He turned to me. "Ponyboy, why don't you grab me another beer, huh? You don't mind, do you, Aaron?" I blinked, glancing at my uncle who was looking at Tim's hip. I nodded, backing away a little, and went into the kitchen, taking my time while they spoke quietly in the other room. Neither raised their voice...I could barely hear them from where I stood in front of our icebox, selecting a beer. I would have liked some food but figured I didn't have time to make anything. Instead, I grabbed a soda and drank it while I stood in the kitchen, glancing over at Darrel Curtis's house.

I wanted to be there. It was safe there. Nobody hit me there….nobody yelled at me or called me a 'shit'...I wasn't scared over there. I'd forgotten what it was like to not be scared all the time. It wasn't fair, though. Darrel Curtis had his own brother to worry about...his own family. I knew he was a nice guy, but I couldn't hide behind him like a little kid. But even I was started to wonder why I had to keep convincing myself of that.

Finally, I went back into the living room with the beer Tim had asked for and he took it, reaching out and patting me on the shoulder. "Thanks, kid." He turned back to Aaron who glanced over at me, looking more resigned than furious. Still, I had to fight the urge to take a step back. "He's gonna take you up to the school." He took a long drink of the beer, holding the bottle loosely in one hand. "Aaron, I'll be around." Tim held out a hand that my uncle shook this time, then ambled out the door. In the silence, I tensed, waiting. I had no idea what Tim had wanted with my uncle, but apparently, it had something to do with me.

My uncle sighed, jerking his head. "Let's go." He snapped. Not about to ask if we were actually going to go to the school, I followed. He climbed into the car, and I waited for a second before following, sitting in the back seat as far away from him as I could get.

The high school was only about a mile or so away from the house and Aaron headed right through the front door, ignoring me as I trailed behind. Classes must have been going on because there was no one in the halls. The lady at the front desk glanced up from her papers and smiled, the expression freezing in place as my uncle got closer. I figured he was glaring, but she didn't let the smile slip. "How can I help you?" She asked.

"We just moved here. I gotta get my nephew in school."

"Oh...I see." She glanced at me and her eyes lingered on the still-dark black eye, probably thinking I was trouble or something. "Let me get the principal…" She stood, throwing one last glance over her shoulder while I waited with my uncle, arms hanging uselessly at my sides.

The principal, a big guy in a suit came out from his office, following the woman. He held out a hand to my uncle and looked me over, his jaw tightening. "My name is Kevin Garrison. I'm the principal here…" My uncle shook his hand, and I watched the principal's eyes flick over to me once more before going back to Aaron.

"Aaron Davis." He introduced himself. "I need to register my nephew for school. We just moved here."

The man nodded, gesturing for us to join him. "Follow me." He invited, leading us to a back room where there was a small table and a couple of chairs. Shutting the door behind us, he gestured for my uncle to sit. I started to do the same when he approached me, his blue eyes hard, and for a second they reminded me of Darrel Curtis...which was stupid. This guy looked pretty mean. Darrel had only been nice to me. "And you are…"

"Ponyboy Davis," I answered, taking the hand he held out and struggling to meet his cold gaze. The black eye and bruises on my cheek hadn't really faded much, and my lip was still split just off the center. I guess I looked like a hood. Or a greaser. That thought was almost comforting.

He lifted an eyebrow, glancing at Aaron. "Ponyboy?" He asked.

"My sister's idea...thought it would be unique or some shit." He shrugged. "Not like I can change it." The principal nodded, looking back at me, nose wrinkled like he'd bit something gross.

"Do you have a middle name you could go by?"

"I like my name," I told him defiantly. I didn't...well...I hadn't. I thought of Sodapop and liked it a little more. He had a weird name and I bet he didn't let anyone make fun of him for it. Or if they did, I bet Darry didn't let anyone tease his little brother. My chest ached a little and once more I called myself a baby. Soda had somebody to take up for him...heck, all those guys did.

"I don't allow fighting in my school, Mr. Davis. Do you understand?" The principal told me then, apparently deciding that using my last name was an acceptable alternative. I decided not to make a big deal of it. Aaron wouldn't take well to me making this any harder.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." He took a seat across from my uncle, and after hesitating for a second, I sat beside Aaron, keeping as far away from him as possible. "There's some paperwork, and we can have his records sent from his previous school. How old is he?" I didn't let myself glare, but I stared at the tabletop, wondering if he thought I was deaf or something. I could talk for myself.

"Thirteen." My uncle said it like a curse.

"Fourteen." I corrected him under my breath. The principal and my uncle both turned to stare at me, both of them looking almost equally irritated. "Fourteen," I told the principal a little louder. "My birthday was a few days ago."

"I see." He turned to my uncle again. "9th grade?"

"Yep." My uncle nodded as he filled out the paperwork. "They said he might get bumped up a grade...said he's smart but I sure don't see it." My ears got hot and I did glare at the table then. Mr. Garrison hummed, glancing over at me critically. I kept staring at the table, the only sound in the room the scratching of his pen against the paper.

For what felt like hours but probably only lasted a few minutes, my uncle filled out the paperwork, his sloppy handwriting filling the lines. Once he'd signed all the papers, given the information from my last school, and had me sign a few of the papers, he pushed them all over to the principal. If felt almost normal...then again, he usually was in public places like this. Once we were back on our own property, though, it was anybody's guess as to how he'd act. He'd been real bad lately, ever since the move, but before, there had been full stretches, weeks even, when he wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. I'd forge his signature on my report cards and, for a while, on the forms for track practice. We lived in relative harmony.

The principal skimmed my papers, looking at me then. "Mr. Davis, when you arrive tomorrow morning, my secretary will have your class schedule. Since you're arriving close to the start of the new term, there are still some openings. Homeroom starts at 7:15 and you'll be expected to be there on time." He stood as soon as the words were out of his mouth, pushing himself up from the table so quickly I thought his chair was going to fall over. We followed suit, my uncle shaking his hand. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Davis." He turned to me again, looking less thrilled about our meeting. "Ponyboy." He said it like a dirty word, his lips twisting unpleasantly around my name.

My uncle headed out then, and I followed, hands in my pockets. Once we got to the parking lot, though, he turned to me. "Find your own way home. I've gotta get back to work." While not cordial, he wasn't being outright nasty, so I just nodded, that seed in my chest taking root just a little. Whatever Tim had said to him...would it make him nicer? Or, if not nicer, less violent? It was stupid to let myself hope at this point, I got that, but I couldn't help it.

I headed home, hands shoved in my pockets. It wasn't too far away, and honestly, I'd rather walk than ride with him. Besides, it wasn't so bad out. It was almost warm. I kind of wished I had a blade or something...if those socs decided to come by again, at least then I'd be ready. But I hoped they were in school...I would guess most of them were Sodapop's age...however old that was. Maybe sixteen? Seventeen? I still didn't know how old anyone was. Guess it didn't matter. But it seemed like the kind of things friends knew about each other...if that's what they were. Maybe. I'd never had friends before, so it's not like I would know. I figured I was jumping the gun, though Who said these guys would want to be friends with me?

It was about 11:30 and I was only a block away from the school when a car raced by, then squealed to a stop in front of me. I started to back away from the road, glancing at the alley beside me and about to make a run for it, but the car didn't look like it belonged to a rich kid. Then the driver's window was rolled down and Steve Randle stuck out his head. "Hey, kid!" He called, leaning his elbow on the window and grinning. "Fancy meeting you here." I smiled a little, relieved as I ambled over to the car.

"Hey." I nodded to Two-Bit who grinned at me from the passenger seat, and then Johnny who sat in the back.

"Jump in, Ponyboy. We're headed to the DX to see Soda on his break." Two-Bit called. I started to shake my head, but Johnny pushed the door to the back seat open and scooted over. "Get in, kid." He ordered again, jerking his head toward the back seat, and hesitantly I did, folding myself into the back seat next to Johnny and closing the door. "What were you doing out here, Pony? Thought you were gonna stay at my place." Two-Bit wondered. I was kind of worried he'd be mad, but he seemed pretty calm, grinning easily.

"Figured I ought to head home. My uncle brought me...got me registered for school." I decided not to mention Tim Shepherd.

"Couldn't bother giving you a ride home?" Steve asked. I shrugged, not meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"He had to get back to work." I felt stupid defending him, but I did it anyway.

"So you're gonna be in school with us from now on? What grade are you in?" Two-Bit wondered.

"9th," I told him, not mentioning the fact that my teachers at my old school had been talking about moving me up.

"Freshie, huh?" Two-Bit turned around in his seat, grinning. "Johnny and Steve are juniors. And me...I'm a super junior." I blinked at him, then glanced over at Johnny who nudged me.

"That just means he flunked last year and had to take it over." He told me in a stage whisper, and Two-Bit reached back and swatted at him, laughing. He didn't seem offended so I grinned a little.

"When do you start?" Johnny asked, his voice softer than his friend's, and Two-Bit turned around in his seat to listen.

"The principal said to show up tomorrow," I told him, shrugging. "Said they'd have a class schedule for me and everything."

"You had to have a meeting with the principal?" Johnny asked as we turned down the road where I'd passed the DX on my first day.

"Mr. Garrison? Yeah."

"Asshole." Steve put in from the first seat. I looked between him and Johnny who smiled.

"Mr. Garrison. Not you." He clarified, and I laughed a little self-consciously.

"He suspended me one time for defending myself against a group of socs," Steve explained in a grumble.

"You did break that guy's nose…" Two-Bit put in, and Steve punched him in the shoulder as he pulled into the DX parking lot. "Had lunch yet, Pony?" Two-Bit wondered.

I shook my head. "Nah. I'd better get home."

"How come?" Johnny wondered.

"Just…I got stuff to do…" I shrugged.

"Come on, Pony. Grab some lunch with us." Johnny invited with a grin, jerking his head toward the DX. Two-Bit and Steve were standing over by the gas pumps, waiting, and I sighed, feeling like I was getting sucked in and I didn't know what to do about it…or if I even wanted to do something about it.

"Yeah…okay." Johnny nudged me with an elbow, still grinning, and I let myself smile back, following him as we headed over to the DX to join his friends.


	11. Closer

**Closer**

Steve and Two-Bit had found me after class, Two throwing an arm around my shoulder and Steve pretending to punch me in the stomach as I tried to stop from dropping my books. I threw the books inside my locker with my backpack, then slammed it shut. "Come on, Johnnycakes. We're going to the DX for lunch." Steve invited, grinning.

"Yeah? What if I don't wanna eat lunch at a filling station with a couple of hoods?" I asked, making Steve laugh as he crossed his arm, all of us keeping an eye out for socs in the hallway. I didn't ever have money for lunch in the cafeteria, even if Two or Steve would always spot me, so we sometimes went to the DX. Other times, I'd hang out in the library, doing homework. Sodapop gave us sandwiches for free, though, which was less embarrassing than letting one of the guys give me money, so I followed them out the side door since, technically, we weren't supposed to leave campus for lunch.

I climbed in the back seat of Steve's car, Two-Bit shouting 'shotgun' as he raced ahead of us, throwing the passenger door open and jumping in. Steve rolled his eyes and dropped into the driver's seat, starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot before a teacher could spot us. I wondered if Dally would meet us as I stared out the window, watching the trees fly by until I caught sight of a familiar figure only about a block away from the school. I jerked upright, grabbing Steve's shoulder. "Hey! Stop!" I called, shaking him, and he slammed on the breaks, him and Two-Bit both staring at me.

"Johnny, what's…" Two-Bit started to ask when Steve rolled his window down and Ponyboy approached the car, looking between the three of us warily. Steve and Two-Bit both invited him into the car…it took a minute but he finally agreed, climbing in beside me and giving me a hesitant smile. He was scared of us. I wondered for a minute how bad his uncle was if he was this scared of us when we hadn't even done nothing to him. We'd been real nice to him and everything, and he still acted like he were gonna hurt him or something.

Steve pulled into the DX parking lot, shutting the car off and we all climbed out, heading toward the station. Ponyboy hung back, apparently about to follow at a distance, but I hung back too, shoving my hands in my pockets. Two-Bit glanced back at us, then jerked his head for Steve to walk with him. He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. "How you been, man?" I asked.

"Um…I'm okay." He shrugged. I didn't quite believe him. He'd stayed over at Two-Bit's house the night before, and Steve and I had caught up with him at school earlier before class.

"How was the kid?" Steve had asked, uncharacteristically interested. Well…maybe that wasn't fair. He was a nice guy, but he usually didn't care about people that weren't in our gang. Then again, if it were up to me, or Sodapop, Ponyboy would be one of us. He lived in our neighborhood now and he needed friends, especially with his uncle being such an ass. I knew what it was like, living with people that hated you. It sucked. Having friends helped a lot. I had a feeling Steve kind of liked Pony, but Ponyboy didn't trust any of us. I didn't blame him. He didn't really have any reason to trust us. But he'd saved me and I owed him. He'd jumped into the middle of a fight that had nothing to do with him and he'd saved me.

"Fine…" Two-Bit had trailed off, both of us waiting. Sodapop had been real worried the night before, and I knew Darry kind of felt bad. He hadn't meant to make Ponyboy uncomfortable but I knew he worried a lot about losing his little brother. "You know his birthday was a couple of days ago?"

"Really?" Steve had asked, glancing at me. "Poor kid had a shitty birthday."

"He woke up late last night…I heard him talking to my mom." He'd told us softly then, crossing his arms and lowering his voice. "I think…the kid's got it pretty rough." We'd known that already, but to hear Two-Bit say it like that, I had a feeling something more serious was going on.

"You know what your schedule is yet?" I asked Ponyboy as we made our way to the DX, him dragging his feet and me hanging back with him.

"They're gonna tell me tomorrow. Said I can pick it up at the front office." He told me, then glanced back at the guys ahead of us. "Is, um…is Sodapop not in school?"

"Nah. He dropped out last year. Needed to help Darry with the bills and besides, he said he didn't like it anyway." Pony nodded, humming a little. "So it's just me, Two-Bit, and Steve. Susie's around too…you met Two-Bit's sister?"

"Yeah, yesterday." He told me, his eyes on the ground as we headed for the station.

"You hungry?" I asked. "Sodapop always gives us sandwiches."

"He ain't gotta do that," Ponyboy told me, shrugging uncomfortably.

"He does it because he wants to." I told him, grinning. "He don't mind." Ponyboy didn't look too convinced, so I changed strategies, getting out the words I'd wanted to say for a while now. "Hey, Ponyboy?" He hummed, pausing and glancing over at me. "I never really got to thank you, you know? For jumping in like you did." Immediately he was uncomfortable and I reached out, gripping his upper arm. He flinched but didn't pull away. "I mean it. They might have killed me if it hadn't been for you. So thank you." He blinked, wide-eyed and surprised.

"It wasn't nothing…" He muttered, but I cut him off.

"Yeah, it was. They beat the shit outta you because of me, and you didn't even know me then." He was quiet for a second, then nodded, smiling just a little.

"You're welcome."

We caught up with the other two who were stepping inside the DX then, Ponyboy staring at his feet the whole time until he almost ran into Steve. He snorting, punching Ponyboy on the shoulder. "Watch it kiddo." None of us missed how pale Ponyboy got when his fist came up, but when it bumped gently against his shoulder, he smiled just a little, the look so hesitant that it was hard to watch. Then he nodded to Sodapop who looked up from the counter with a grin.

"That time already? Hey, Ponyboy!" Ponyboy muttered a hello, trying for a smile. It came out as more of a grimace. "How's it going, kid?" He came out from behind the counter, nodding to me. "Hey, Johnny."

"It's going fine." He told Soda as Steve headed over to the cooler, looking through the sandwiches. Two-Bit remained where he was over by the chips, probably picking out a snack.

"His uncle enrolled him in school today," I spoke up, figuring Pony was feeling uncomfortable. He didn't like being the center of attention, apparently. I didn't much blame him. Usually, I didn't talk all that much, but it looked like Ponyboy needed someone to speak up for him.

"Yeah? When do you start?" Sodapop asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter, another guy that worked there stepping through the door and taking his place behind the counter. We took that cue to grab some sandwiches and head outside…well, all of us except Pony who didn't take any food. Two-Bit grabbed him one anyway.

"Uh, the principal told me to come tomorrow."

"You like your old school?" He wondered. Trying to make conversation with Ponyboy was kind of like pulling teeth, but Soda didn't seem to mind.

"It was fine." He mumbled. We all stood around the counter, Two-Bit holding out a sandwich to Ponyboy. He shook his head. "No thanks." He tried to wave him off, but Two-Bit reached out and grabbed his arm. Pony froze, eyes wide as Two-Bit turned his hand over, putting the sandwich in it, then let him go. Steve snorted and asked Sodapop something about work, and I scooted closer to Pony.

"They always have a lot of extras at the end of the night," I told him quietly, unwrapping mine and taking a bite. After a moment, he did the same, nibbling at it. "Steve works here part-time, and their boss don't mind them giving away sandwiches sometimes." Ponyboy glanced over at me, nodding a little, and I took another bite while the guys talked. Ponyboy seemed happy to just sit back and listen, so I joined in, both of us eating and listening, occasionally grinning a little when someone else would make a joke.

After a while, though, our lunch break was over and we had to head back to school. Steve turned to Pony. "You want a ride back to your place, kid? We got some time."

"No thanks." Pony tried his best to smile, hands deep in his pockets as he slouched next to me. "It ain't far." I think Two-Bit wanted to argue, but Steve just shrugged.

"Alright. See you around, Pony." He nodded to Ponyboy and headed to his car. I hesitated, turning to Ponyboy.

"See you tomorrow at school," I told him.

"Hey, Ponyboy?" We all paused when Sodapop called him back, Ponyboy sticking his hands down in his pockets again. "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight? Darry's making chicken. You can sleep on the couch if you want."

"I better not." He told Sodapop simply, shaking his head, that light in his eyes going dim again.

"Kiddo, it ain't no trouble. We don't mind…the guys always come over for dinner. Besides, your uncle's gonna be around and…"

"I'll be fine." Ponyboy cut him off, voice sounding dead as he tried to smile, then nodded to all of us. "Thanks for lunch. See you guys around." He turned then, ambling off toward his house where, hopefully, his uncle wasn't around. Soda stared after him for a second, jaw tight, and I knew he was worried. Ponyboy was friendly enough, but he was quiet and scared all the time…didn't seem like he had a lot of fun. I didn't think he really trusted us either. Hopefully we could change that.

The next day I woke up early, throwing all my stuff in my backpack and slipping out before my old man could wake up. He was passed out on the couch, mouth open, three empty beer bottles on the floor beside him. I snuck by, careful not to slam the door. My mom was in her bed, and I wondered if my dad had lost his job or something. He'd been home a lot lately, which meant I'd been sleeping elsewhere a lot lately.

It was a quick walk to Darry and Sodapop's house where I usually caught a ride with Steve and Two-Bit. Two's truck was broken down or something and he needed to get it fixed, so he'd been riding with Steve too. Darry sometimes gave us a ride in the truck when he had time if Steve couldn't do it, but I'd catch a ride one way or another. It was kind of a long walk to the school and it was cold out.

"Hey, Johnnycakes!" Darry called from the kitchen when I opened the front door, trying to be careful not to slam his door. I knew he hated that. He poked his head out, grinning. "Want some cereal? Steve's not here yet."

"Sure…thanks." I dropped my backpack by the door, joining him in the kitchen and pouring myself a bowl. He put another bowl on the table, I guess for Soda since the shower was running, and I took a bite, trying to hurry.

"How you doing, kiddo?" He asked, dropping into a chair with his own bowl.

"Uh…fine." I shrugged as the shower shut off in the other room. "Did Sodapop tell you Ponyboy was starting school today?"

"Yeah, he mentioned it." Darry took a bite, glancing at the hallway. "I think Tim had a talk with his uncle."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. I hadn't thought Tim had even known about Ponyboy.

He nodded, taking a bite of his cereal as Soda all but ran into the room, dropping into his chair and attacking his cereal. Darry snorted, rolling his eyes. "Chew, Pepsi cola." Darry advised, ruffling his hair with a grin.

"I am chewing." He told Darry around a mouthful of cereal, milk dribbling onto his chin. Darry pushed a napkin over then turned back to me, ignoring his brother's table manners.

"Dally told Tim about Ponyboy's uncle." Darry explained. "I guess he asked Tim to have a chat with him since they work together."

The front door slammed and Darry closed his eyes for a minute, sighing. Soda fought a laugh, then choked on his cereal as Steve stepped into the kitchen, lifting an eyebrow. "You okay, man?" He asked, pounding him on the back, and Darry rolled his eyes, taking his empty bowl to the sink and muttering something about 'living in a barn.'

"Yeah." Soda managed as I took my bowl to the sink where Darry grabbed it.

"You guys better leave soon." He told us, scrubbing our bowls. Sodapop grabbed a glass and took a drink of water, coughing a little, and we all hurried out the door, me grabbing my backpack, then hesitating.

"Hang on a sec!" I called to Steve who was climbing into the driver's seat of his car. I figured Two-Bit was driving himself or walking since he was usually the first one to the Curtis's.

"Where the hell you going, kid?" Steve called after me, then shut up when I headed over to the house next door, running up the path and knocking on the door. When I glanced back, they were both in the car. His uncle's truck was gone, so I figured it was safe to knock. Plus Steve and Soda would back me up if the asshole came after me.

Ponyboy opened the door, wide-eyed and startled. "Hey." He muttered, glancing behind me at the car where Steve and Soda waited. He looked like he wanted to hide from me or something, his eyes unsure…almost scared. "What's going on?" He asked.

"We're headed to school. Want a ride?" That seemed to shock him, and he stared at me for a minute before managing to open his mouth.

"I…you ain't gotta…" He stammered.

"Get in the car, kid! Come on!" Steve called, leaning over Soda who laughed, trying to push him off, then laying on the horn.

"There's room in the car. Come on." I grinned, jerking my head for him to follow me, and after a second, he grinned back slowly, grabbing the backpack by the door and shutting the door behind him.

He climbed in the car, sitting behind Steve, and I barely had time to shut the door before Steve was taking off. Pony gripped the door handle, glancing wide-eyed at me, and I laughed. "He's great at fixing cars but he can barely drive them." Steve reached back, trying to hit me, but he missed and had to swerve back into his own lane.

Sodapop turned in his seat, seatbelt forgotten and grinned at Ponyboy. "How's it going, kiddo? Excited for your first day of school?" I knew he was checking him over, but he didn't seem to have any new bruises, even though his face was still kind of rough looking. Ponyboy shrugged, fighting to look between Sodapop and his own hands in his lap.

"Uh…I guess."

"Man, my parents always had to drag me out the door on the first day."

"First day after summer break ended, first day of every week, every other day of the week…" Steve muttered and Soda slugged him, still grinning. "Thought I'd get to sleep in after dropping out, but our boss makes me come in early anyway." He shrugged. I knew Darry hated that he'd dropped out, but Soda really didn't seem to mind working at the DX too much. Pony just gave him a strained, unsure smile, but Soda wasn't put off. "Darry was always the brains of the family. Got a couple of football scholarships, but it wasn't enough to pay for college. Hopefully, after I'm 18, he can start saving up again and go. What about you, Ponyboy?"

"I couldn't afford it."

"Bet you could if you ran track. Get a bunch of scholarships. You any good in school?"

Ponyboy hesitated before answering that one, speaking real soft when he finally did, eyes down like he was admitting something bad. "They wanted to bump me up a grade in my last school." He told us, and Soda's grin got bigger.

"Shoot, you must be smart then!" He reached out, punching Ponyboy on the leg. This time, Ponyboy didn't flinch, just looked up in surprise. "Bet you could teach these greasers a thing or two." Steve snorted, swerving a little and knocking Soda off balance so he fell against the window. Ponyboy let out a surprised laugh at that, and Soda looked thrilled.

Sodapop turned back around in his seat as Steve pulled up to the DX, snatching the hat off of Steve's head and putting on his own, ducking out the door before Steve could grab it back. "See you guys later!" He called. Steve snorted, honking the horn as Soda crossed in front of the car, and Soda flipped him a cheerful bird.

As he pulled out of the DX parking lot, it was quiet again, and Steve floored it so we could get to school on time, fiddling absently with the radio and eventually leaving it alone.

Beside me, Ponyboy was wringing his hands, then looked up, taking a deep breath. "Um…thanks for the ride, Steve." He murmured after a few minutes of silence, glancing up and meeting Steve's eyes in the rearview mirror.

Steve nodded, his voice pretty quiet when he answered. "Anytime, kid." I knew he meant it.

There were barely any parking spaces left, so we had to park in the back, all of us speed walking to get to the building on time, especially Pony who had to go to the front office and get his schedule before homeroom started. There were a couple of guys lingering in the parking lot, sitting on their cars or on the steps, and a few girls stood in a tight group, all giggling and talking. Two-Bit walked by them, appearing out of nowhere, and lifted up one of their skirts. She shrieked, turning around and smacking at him, and Steve snorted.

"That's Two-Bit's girl, Kathy," I told Pony while Two pulled her close, kissing her as the other girls scattered, all of them giggling or whispering together. "And that's Evie, Steve's girl." I pointed and Steve turned around, grinning when Evie took his hand.

"What about you?" Pony asked, voice barely above a whisper as we headed for the front door. I followed, hurrying up the stairs with him. "You got a girl?" He was having a real conversation with me and I smiled.

"Nah." I shook my head, pulling the door open as we both stepped inside. He moved out of the way of a soc who would have shoved us if we hadn't moved, glaring at his back. "You?"

He snorted but didn't look really amused. "No." He told me shortly, pausing as we reached the front office. "I'd better…" I nodded, shoving my hands in my pockets. "You ain't gotta wait." He told me.

"Go on, Ponyboy. I'll show you where your first class is." I urged, leaning against the wall, and Pony smiled for real, nodding and hesitantly meeting my eyes.

"Yeah…okay. Thanks, Johnny." I didn't know if he trusted me…not yet. But he seemed to be relaxing a little as he headed into the office.

I walked him to his homeroom, pointing out his other classes on our way, then had to head to my own class. I didn't see him again until lunch. Two-Bit had asked when his last class before lunch was, and after I told him, we all milled around outside his classroom until Ponyboy emerged, pausing and staring wide-eyed at all of us as he froze in his tracks.

"Hey, kid." Steve nodded, and I grinned a little.

"Hi, Ponyboy."

"Hey…" He muttered, looking between the three of us and looking like he was about to run back into his classroom and jump out a window.

"Time for lunch," Two-Bit told him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him along. He hesitated, looking worried, then let Two-Bit drag him forward as he led him toward the cafeteria. Steve snorted, elbowing me, and we followed. When we got to the lunchroom, Pony pulled away from Two-Bit, heading toward a table. "I don't know how you guys do it in Kansas, but here we get our lunch before we sit down and eat it." He was grinning but Pony shrugged.

"Ain't got no money." He told Two-Bit, and I knew he was trying to be nonchalant, but his ears turned red and I knew he was embarrassed. Two-Bit lowered his voice, leaning in.

"Heck, kid, I can spot you…"

"No," Ponyboy told him, his voice going hard. Two-Bit started to speak when Steve grabbed his shoulder.

"We're gonna grab food, kid. Be right back." He told him, pulling Two-Bit along. I let them go, dropping down on the bench across from him.

"Ain't you gonna get food?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Nah. I ain't got no money either," I told him easily. "Sometimes the guys spot me…" I shrugged. "It sucks, but they don't mind."

"They're your friends." He muttered, staring at the table. I wanted to tell him that they'd be his friends too, but it was probably too early for that.

"Yeah…they're good friends," I admitted, grinning. "A couple of times we go to the DX…that's about as many times Soda can get away with giving out sandwiches for free."

"He's really nice."

"Yeah…they're all good guys. They're like my family, really. My parents suck so…" I hadn't admitted that to anyone before. Not really. He nodded though…I knew he'd get it. I mean, Steve and Dally would get it too. But Ponyboy was different somehow. He wouldn't try to brush it off or make a joke or nothing…he just nodded and looked sad.

"They don't care…about you staying with Darrel sometimes?" It was kind of funny to hear Darry's full name like that…it was what people had called his dad. I didn't comment on it, though.

"Nah. Long as I'm not around, they don't care what I do." He grunted.

"That's lucky." He told me, his voice low as people walked around us, a couple of guys in fancy clothes glancing at Ponyboy and me but not bugging us. "If I'm nearby…I mean, sometimes he leaves me alone for a while. But then he changes his mind…it's like he wants to beat on me for fun." He shrugged. I flinched.

"That sucks." He nodded, then, before I could say anything else, Two-Bit and Steve sat down with us, Steve on my side and Two-Bit on Ponyboy's.

Two lifted a hand, gesturing grandly to our surroundings. "So what do you think, Ponyboy? How does it compare to Kansas?"

Ponyboy kept staring down at the table, and for a second I thought he was going to ignore Two-Bit. Then he shrugged again. "'Bout the same." He told Two-Bit in a quiet, hesitant voice. "Bigger."

"Yeah?" He pointed down at his fries. "Want some?"

"No…no thanks." Pony shook his head, glancing around again. At a table across from us, a bunch of soc football players were laughing loudly, talking and elbowing each other.

"Those are socs. Football players." Two-Bit told him. "Better stay clear. They're the kind of guys that beat you and Johnny up." Ponyboy nodded, but still seemed withdrawn. "You sure you don't want some?" The kid nodded again and Steve struck up a conversation about the DX, probably guessing, like I had, that Ponyboy was uncomfortable. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who wanted attention.

I thanked Steve when he pushed his half-empty tray over my way, snagging a few of his fries. I'd probably end up having dinner at the Curtis's house, maybe even sleeping over there. My mom and dad had been fighting worse than usual lately, so I tried to stay clear. Darry didn't mind none, and they had a spare room if me and Steve both needed to sleep over.

When lunch was over, I headed out with Pony who didn't wait for Two-Bit or Steve, both of whom were dumping their trays. I didn't think he was trying to be rude or nothing…didn't seem like he trusted us much though, or even liked us. He gave me a confused look when I joined him. "I gotta get to class." He told me, lips turning up at the corner just a little, more of a grimace than a smile. For a second, I wanted to say that was fine…that if he was gonna go out of his way to avoid us, then he could fend for himself. But his eyes were scared. And I knew how he felt.

"Sure thing. See you around, man!" I called, waving and heading to my own class. He'd come around.


	12. And Closer

**And Closer**

I knew I was weird…that I was coming off as a jerk. I wasn't exactly well versed in the art of conversation with strangers who'd saved my life…or whose life I'd saved. Either way, the redheaded one, Two-Bit, was real nice, but he kept trying to talk to me and I didn't know what to say. Steve had rescued me, distracting him, but I think I liked the other one, Johnny, the best. He was quiet and friendly. But I still didn't dare let myself go…didn't dare let myself trust them. We were at school, where other kids laughed at me or threw stuff at me. Where more than one football player had beaten me up. Sure, these guys seemed nice. And sure, I almost trusted Darrel and Sodapop, but these guys…I wasn't sure. Every instinct told me they were okay. I was just scared.

What if I pissed them off? What if I got attached and then pissed them off? I couldn't bear the thought of making friends only to drive them away. And wasn't that what I did to people? Drive them away? So I waved to Johnny Cade, heading for my next class. Homeroom, math, science, social studies, study hall, lunch, then English and, lastly, PE. I wasn't looking forward to that last one. Sure, I was fast and in relatively good shape, but when it came to picking teams for sports, there was always room for humiliation.

It was fairly standard from class to class. The teachers would hand me a textbook, and only my English teacher bothering to introduce me to the class. A few people snickered at my name, but I ignored them, heading over to the back row and sitting in the empty desk in the corner. Keeping silent was a strategy that had gotten me through school somewhat painlessly so far, and it was a strategy I planned to stick with. Then I stepped into the gym and felt my stomach clench. A group of huge, football-player looking guys gathered in a cluster in one corner, all dressed in nice, probably name brand work-out clothes. I was glad I hadn't known to bring a change of clothes and took a seat on the bleachers, hoping I could make myself small enough that I'd turn invisible.

The teacher came in, dressed in shorts and a tank top, arms crossed as he surveyed the room, pausing when he caught sight of me. "You…Ponyboy Davis?" He asked, heading over and standing in front of me. I hated it when adults towered over me.

"Yeah…yes, sir." I amended, standing. He looked down at me, nodding slowly.

"You bring clothes?"

"No sir…just got my schedule this morning," I told him.

"Bring a change of clothes tomorrow." He ordered, then turned and headed back to the center of the room and blowing his whistle. The other students all ran toward the coach, standing around and waiting for him to tell them what to do.

"You forget clothes too?" I jumped, turning with wide eyes to find Steve had joined me on the bleachers. Glad it wasn't someone who was gonna attack me, I relaxed a little.

"Uh…yeah." I muttered, looking around in confusion. "Didn't know I'd need them."

"I put off this stupid class for two years, but I gotta take it to graduate." He explained, rolling his eyes. "Johnny told me you had it at the end of the day too."

"Oh…yeah." I murmured, crossing my arms and nodding, hating myself. Why couldn't I hold a conversation? Why did I feel like an idiot when someone wanted to talk to me? "I do…have it last." I trailed off staring at my feet, and Steve snorted beside me as the PE teacher had everyone stand in the middle of the gym, him barking instructions.

"That's Coach Quinez. Everyone just calls him 'Coach Q' though. He ain't bad, but you want to make sure to bring your stuff if you wanna pass." I glanced over at him, nodding a little. "I forgot to grab my stuff last night."

"Oh." I'd have to find some shorts…hopefully, t-shirts would be okay to wear. If my uncle wasn't home before I got home, I could pack my stuff for the next day and have it all ready…maybe sleep in my room with the door locked. Or maybe I could sleep in the lot. I wasn't about to go to Darrel and Sodapop's house again…they were nice guys but I couldn't hide behind them.

On the gym floor, the others were getting into groups and lining up…relay races I guess. "You always this quiet or...?" Steve asked, and I bristled, feeling my ears heat up. I hated myself. I hated that I was so quiet and awkward and couldn't hold a conversation, and I hated that he'd pointed it out.

"What do you care, man?" I snapped, glaring at my shoes and hating myself more every second. What the hell was the matter with me? He'd been trying to be nice and I was being an asshole. Glancing up, I flinched when he glared at me.

"You know what, kid? I don't." He told me, rolling his eyes and pulling himself to his feet. Grabbing his backpack, he moved to a different part of the bleachers, pulling out a textbook and skimming the page.

It took me thirty-seven minutes to work up the courage to stand, telling myself over and over that I'd been a jerk…that Steve had been trying to have a conversation with me, which was more than anyone at my old school had ever done. It took me another two minutes to walk over to where he was sitting. He glanced up at me as I perched on the bench beside him, several feet away, then rolled his eyes and went back to his book. "I…uh…I…" He sighed, putting the book down and staring impatiently at me. "I can't remember the last time I had a real conversation with someone…before moving here." I admitted, my eyes dropping to my feet again and feeling like a total idiot. "People…don't talk to me."

"How come?" He wondered, tone even and almost uninterested.

"I came from a real small town and…everyone knew…about my family." I shrugged. "My granddad and my uncle…they're both shitty people. I mean, before he died, my granddad was. They drank a lot and couldn't keep jobs and…my mom…she killed herself and…I just…I didn't have…people to talk to. Or…people who wanted to talk to me. I…I didn't…I didn't mean to be a jerk." I told him, voice dying at the end, and I swallowed hard.

For what felt like a long time, he was quiet, and I stared down at the ground, sure he was gonna laugh or go back to reading his textbook and ignoring me. Or maybe he'd just get up and move again. Either way, I deserved it. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he sighed, then reached out, hesitating when I flinched, then put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing in a gesture that was almost comforting. "Yeah, alright kid. Don't worry about it." He told me, grinning a little. "You want a ride home after school?"

"You don't have to…"

"Alright, kid. Here's a tip." He cut me off, sounding amused but also stern. "Around here, if one of us offers you a ride, take it. There's plenty of guys like…" He hesitated, then pointed at one of the buff guys running across the gym. "Like that guy, Bob Sheldon. He'd love to catch you on your way home and give you another black eye."

He was serious, I could tell that much. And I didn't need any more hits to the face for a while. "Okay…thanks."

"Sure, kid." He went back to his textbook then, but he wasn't mad at me anymore, so I'd take sitting in silence.

Johnny and Two-Bit were waiting outside the gym, along with the two girls, Evie and Kathy. "Ponyboy, this is Kathy." Two-Bit introduced the girl on his arm who smiled at me. "Kathy, this is the kid that lives next door to Sodapop and Darry."

"Hi, Ponyboy. Nice to meet you." She greeted me. She was real pretty, with long blonde hair in a ponytail and a sweet smile.

"Nice to meet you." I did my best to smile and meet her eyes, not wanting her to think I was rude.

"And this is Evie," Steve told me, taking the darker haired girl's hand. She held out her other hand, pumping mine when I took it.

"Hey, Ponyboy. You helped Johnny out, didn't you?" She asked, her eye contact intense. I tried to match it and failed, hoping she didn't think I was rude.

"Um…yeah. I did." I shrugged.

"Pretty tuff." She grinned, and I prayed my ears weren't getting red, or, if they were, the others didn't notice.

"I'm gonna give these guys a ride home. See you tonight?" Steve asked her. She smiled, reaching up and kissing him real quick.

"See you tonight." Kathy joined her and the two girls headed off, then we made our way to Steve's car, my backpack a lot heavier now that it was full of books and homework I'd need to do.

Steve parked in front of the Curtis's house, and we all climbed out, me hoisting my backpack up on my back and heading straight for my house. "See you kid!" Two-Bit called, waving as the other three climbed the steps to Darrel Curtis's house and I wondered if they ever spent time at their own houses. Then again, I knew that Steve's dad was apparently a jerk and Johnny's parents weren't great either.

I dropped my backpack in my room, wishing I had a desk, but figuring I could get most of my stuff done at the table before Aaron got home. I made a sandwich for a late lunch, then, grabbing a soda, I put my homework on the kitchen table and got started. None of it was hard…they'd talked about bumping me up a grade before we'd moved, and I had to admit, I kind of wanted to. It wasn't like I knew anyone in my grade here…then again, I hadn't known anyone at my old school real well either.

I finished everything in about an hour, glad we'd been about the same place in my old school in most subjects. Draining the coke, I pulled out a package of hotdogs and made four, hoping that if I made him dinner, Aaron would go easy on me. Moving the laundry to our dryer, I boiled the water for the hotdogs, then, after scarfing down two, I put the others on the plate and left it on the stove. Then, I jumped in the shower, cleaning up as fast as I could. Even if Aaron had been decent this morning, I wasn't gonna risk hanging around him. When I got out, I listened at the door for a second, then went into my bedroom, locking the door. Digging through my closet, I found some shorts and a white t-shirt that I could wear in PE and, dropping on my bed, I stared at the wall, realizing that laundry was done, dinner was fixed, I'd done my homework and gotten ready for school the next day, and it was only five pm.

My mind drifted to the guys next door and I wondered what they were up to. Steve was taking his girl out and I wondered if Soda was going too. Did he have a girl? Probably. Darry probably did too…they were all real nice guys, tough looking too. Johnny had said he didn't have a girl…so I wondered what he was doing. I didn't know how to be friends with people. I didn't know how to hang out with other people like a normal person. Were we friends? They were all older than me…they probably didn't want a kid tagging along.

Wishing I'd through to grab a book from the school library, I grabbed the Agatha Christie book from the floor by my bed and read for a while. Usually I could focus pretty good on books and could sit still for a long time, but now I found myself fidgeting every few seconds, looking out the window and watching the road, then reading and rereading the same page over and over until I gave up.

The front door slammed at 6:30, and I listened to Aaron move through the house toward the kitchen where hopefully he realized that I'd made dinner. He didn't come to my room, so I relaxed, dropping back on my pillow and giving up on the book. Then, standing and realizing that I couldn't sit in this house all night, I opened my window, crawling out onto the porch, and then headed through the gate and toward the road.

I didn't have any money but I figured I could probably sneak into the movie house. There was a side door and I could get in as long as the manager wasn't around. I'd done it once or twice before, even though I was worried about getting caught. If they called the cops or something, Aaron would kill me. Still, I couldn't stand just sitting around anymore, especially when I never knew what kind of mood my uncle was gonna be in. Sometimes it was fine, but other times he'd get bored and beat down my door.

I hurried down the road, not letting myself glance at Darrel and Sodapop Curtis's house. They were busy. I wasn't their friend…I was a kid they'd been nice to because they were decent people. I needed to get over this weird obsession with my neighbors. Maybe I could even make my own friends here. No one knew me or my family…I could find people my own age to hang out with…spend less time at the house with my uncle. Give him less chances to turn on me.

Instead of thinking about that, I ran, getting into a rhythm and letting my feet slap against the pavement. I wanted to go out for track, and maybe I could sneak enough money from the asshole to afford new shoes…maybe even some new clothes. I sure needed them, with the way I was growing. Barely anything I had fit right. And I'd need money for meets and stuff, but I didn't want to think about that either. The closest I'd ever been to making friends in high school had been on the track team…and winning ribbons and trophies…it made people look at you different. Like you were worth something. I missed it.

I slowed as I got into town, making a note to go for more runs if I was going to try out for track. It was a bigger school, so I figured it would be more competitive. Deciding to worry about that later, I walked until I found the movie house again and headed that way. It was pretty full, and someone else had left the side door propped open. Looking around, I slipped in, hurrying down the aisle of the random movie playing on the big screen and finding a seat in the back. In front of me was a couple making out and I averted my eyes, focusing on the screen. It was some teen beach film, which was fine with me. I liked pretty much any kind of movie, long as I could follow along and forget about my real life.

Suddenly someone dropped into a chair beside me and I jumped, scared it was someone about to ask to see my ticket. Instead, a familiar face grinned at me. "Hey there, kid." Dallas Winston leaned back in his new seat and Johnny Cade sat down on my other side.

"Um…hey." I muttered, looking between them. "How…how did…what are you guys doing here?" I asked.

Dallas jerked his chin at the big screen. "Watching a movie." He told me simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dallas didn't seem too interested in making further conversation, just sitting back and watching the film. I wondered briefly if they'd followed me from my place, but it was a weird question to ask. Johnny grinned then, turning to me.

"What did you think about your first day?" He wondered, handing me a bucket of popcorn. Hesitating, I reached out, taking a piece and thanking him.

"It was fine." I shrugged. "Bigger than my old school." He pushed the popcorn at me again and I took another piece.

"You had PE with Steve, right?" He confirmed.

"Yeah."

"Coach Q is alright. Just make sure you bring your stuff to class."

"Yeah…that's what Steve said," I mumbled, then forced myself to look at him instead of the wall right beside him. He was my age, my size, and I had no reason to be scared of him. Or so I told myself over and over again. "Does he coach the track team?"

Johnny blinked a little, then shook his head. "Nah, he coaches football. Mr. Meyers coaches track. He's the health teacher." I nodded. "You run track?"

"Yeah. I used to…at my old school…some." I shrugged.

"You any good?" Dallas wondered, apparently tuning in to the conversation again.

"Um…I was okay." I told him. It was easier with Johnny, I realized. Probably because Dallas was bigger…meaner looking too. But he'd never been mean to me. Not yet, anyway. "Won sometimes…" He grunted, going back to the movie.

"That's cool, man. You ought to try out. I can show you where his room is tomorrow." Johnny put in.

"Thanks." I murmured, grinning. For a little while, we tried to pay attention to the movie, but I was finding it hard to focus. Usually I could get lost in them, but I'd come to this one kind of late and it was hard to keep up with what little plot there was. Johnny seemed to notice, turning to me in the theater.

"You gonna sleep in the lot tonight?"

"Nah. I thought I'd try sleeping at my place again…he's left me alone somewhat."

"That's good…"

"He does…leave me alone sometimes." I told him, not sure why I'd said it…he seemed like he'd get it. He'd mentioned that his parents weren't great either and he slept out in that lot sometimes. "You gonna sleep out there?" I wondered.

Dallas broke in before he could answer. "No. He can stay at Darry's…or with me." He shot Johnny a look, and Johnny grinned just a little. It must be nice, I thought, to have a friend like Dallas to look after you. Who actually cared that you had a place to sleep at night.

About halfway through the movie, Dallas left, coming back a minute later with a couple of sodas. Dropping into his seat, he handed me a soda that I passed to Johnny, then handed me another one. I just stared at it, looking around then back at him in confusion. "It's for drinking, kid." He told me, sounding impatient.

"You…you ain't gotta…"

"Shut up and drink it, kid." He ordered, shoving it at me, and I managed to catch it before he spilled it all over me. Taking a hesitant drink, I passed the tub of popcorn Johnny pushed at me over to Dallas.

"Thanks," I muttered. "I can pay you back…"

"Shut up." He grumbled, rolling his eyes and drinking half his soda in one go, then lighting a cigarette. I wasn't sure we were allowed to smoke in the movie house, but he didn't seem to care, holding out the pack and offering me one. I shook my head, not about to bum a cigarette from the guy who'd just bought me a soda.

Too much, my brain warned as I slouched in my seat. I was getting too close. This was dangerous. I had to fight the urge to run…to just take off. It would be even ruder than I'd already been that day, but I was scared. I didn't want to owe this guy…or worse, get close to him only for him to realize I was a shitty friend…not worth looking after. Everyone realized it after a while…how long would it take these guys? Darrel already knew.

No…that wasn't fair. Darrel Curtis had been real nice to me. But he loved his little brother and had to take care of him. My uncle could ruin all that for them…he'd do it just to hurt me. He didn't like it when I had friends. Or when adults were nice to me. Heck, when I was having a good day, he liked to try and ruin it for me. I wasn't gonna let my uncle hurt them…he wasn't gonna get Sodapop taken away from his brother over me. So as much as I wanted to go to Darrel and Sodapop's house and hide from my uncle, I wasn't gonna do it. In fact, I was gonna avoid that house at all costs. Sodapop was a great guy, and he'd been nicer than anyone…and they'd both offered me a place to stay. But I wasn't gonna let m my uncle ruin their lives.

When the movie was over, I headed back toward the residential part of town to the west, waving at the guy's who waved back. "Kid you wanna sleep on the floor at my place?" Dallas offered, hands shoved in his pocket, a cigarette balanced on his lip. Johnny walked backwards beside him, listening for my answer. Shaking my head but thanking him, I waved and wished them a good night, letting Johnny know I'd see him in the morning. Did that mean we were friends? I wasn't sure, but it was kind of a nice thought. As I walked home though, I cursed myself for letting these people get close and wishing I was strong enough to stay away.


	13. Try Out

**Try-Out**

The week passed, and every day the kid seemed to be fighting himself, sometimes grinning and even laughing with us, and other days pulling away and barely speaking. The morning of his second day, Johnny ran up to his house and knocked on the door, and once more, a confused Ponyboy opened it, looking at us and then at Johnny like he just didn't know what to do. I hated it…hated how unsure he always looked around us. We were trying to be his friends, and I didn't blame him, but the way he acted made it kind of hard sometimes. He was a good kid, that much was obvious, but he was always so scared. So withdrawn. I wondered what the people at his old school had really been like.

Johnny had said something, and then Pony had ducked back into his house, backpack thrown over his shoulder as he walked up to the car, not meeting any of our eyes as he climbed in the back. "Thanks for the ride, Steve." He'd muttered, staring down at his feet, and Steve had given me a look. He'd seemed more withdrawn than the day before and I'd wondered what was going on with him. He'd looked about the same…same fading black eye and cuts on his face. Same old-looking clothes with shirts and pants that hung off him…he was so skinny he was practically gaunt, but the pants were too short, showing his socks. He was growing, and I figured his uncle wouldn't buy him new clothes.

He'd sat silently in the back, and when Steve had come in to the DX after school, he'd told me that the kid had been like that all day, sick-looking and refusing to talk. "You guys got PE together?" I'd asked, taking a break from trying to take an engine apart and leaning against the wall beside him where he was pounding a dent out of a Chevy.

"Yeah." He'd answered absently, then turned to me, arms crossed. "Coach had us doing laps. That kid is fast…was done before anyone else even thought about crossing that finish line. Heck, he lapped me." Steve snorted.

"He mentioned he use to run track." I'd felt something almost like pride, even though I had no right to it. The kid was fast, but it sure didn't have nothing to do with me. He wasn't related to me…it was something I had to remind myself of too often. I couldn't help the lists in my head though. We had a spare room. We could afford a little more food. He wasn't a puppy though. He had a guardian, and I doubted that asshole would just make it easy on us and give him up.

"Kid needs to put on some weight if he's gonna run track. Looks like a stiff wind might knock him over." Steve had shaken his head, looking almost upset. "He wasn't around when I went to give him a ride. Johnny said he mentioned talking to the track coach after school, so maybe that's where he was." Yeah, Steve was worried alright. I had felt myself grin and he rolled his eyes, going back to the car. "Hell, you know the kid can't hardly fight off a squirrel by himself, he's so small. What do you think a group of socs would do to him?" I'd thought back to how we'd found him before…coughing up blood and barely conscious, flinching. Steve had been right, and I'd hoped he'd made it home okay.

We'd all followed the same routine for the rest of the week, Johnny going up to the house next door to knock, and each day Ponyboy would seem more and more confused…almost scared. I don't know why. Surely we'd have hurt him already if that had been the plan. And despite my best efforts to make conversation, he stared at his feet most of the time, giving strained, fearful answers. Instead of getting better, he seemed to get worse. After that day when his uncle had come over, he didn't come to the house anymore. He'd ride with us in the morning, then thank Steve for giving him a ride, no matter how many times he told the kid not to worry about it.

Two-Bit and Steve kept me updated on how he did at school. They weren't in any of the same classes except for Steve who had PE with him, though, so they had to rely on word of mouth and prying answers out of the kid. All Steve could tell me was that the kid was real quiet, and that he was a fast runner. When it came to sports, he was usually picked last, but it didn't seem to bug him much. He didn't talk to anyone else, even though Steve told me a couple of socs in the class had tried to bug him a couple of days ago. Steve had taken care of it, and I'd thanked him. "Don't know what you're thanking me for. The kid ain't family. Ain't even our friend." He'd grumbled.

"Yeah, he is." I'd told him.

"He don't want nothing to do with us, Sodapop. Anyone can see it." I'd just shaken my head and he'd left it alone, pitying me, but not arguing. I think he was starting to see it the same way. I just wished Ponyboy would get the memo. The only time I really saw him was when the guys would bring him to the DX at lunch, which they'd done once more after the first time. Johnny told me that he sometimes went to the library for lunch instead and they didn't want to force him to go with them. Sometimes he let them give him a ride home, always stupidly grateful and somewhat reluctant. Other times he'd walk, slipping out before any of them could catch him.

It had been a week and a half since he'd started school, and apparently, track try-outs were happening. Johnny had let me know the day before, and I sure wasn't about to miss it. Steve sighed beside me on the bleachers, torn between bemused and irritated. "You know, the kid didn't exactly ask us to show up." He grumbled, chin resting on his fist. We were alone on the bleachers, and students trying out hadn't even come out yet…neither had the coach. School had just let out a few minutes ago.

"We used to watch Darry's football try-outs."

"Darry's your brother, Sodapop," Steve explained, almost patiently like I was a six-year-old. He sounded sad, though, like he was worried about me, and I shot him a glare.

"I'd come if you were gonna try out."

"Soda…"

"Come on, Steve," I begged, looking over at him. "He ain't got nobody, man. Nobody." I reminded, my voice kept low in case anyone was walking by. Just then, the coach came into view, staring down at his clipboard while he walked. Then, as he got closer, he paused, looking up at us. We were the only ones on the bleachers, and he scanned them for a moment before crossing his arms and coming to a stop in front of us.

"Mr. Randal. Trying out for track?" He asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. I grinned, elbowing him, and Steve rolled his eyes.

"No, sir." He told the health teacher. "We got a buddy trying out."

"Mr. Matthews?"

I snorted. "No, sir. Two-Bit's slower than Steve." That was true…it was all the beer. "It's the new kid. Ponyboy Davis." He glanced back down at his clipboard, and I figured he'd remember that name. Mr. Meyers was a pretty cool guy. I hadn't liked his class any more than my other classes, but he was nice and hadn't yelled at me when he'd caught me fighting with a soc behind the school…just pulled us apart and told us to beat it or he'd have to call someone. When our parents had died, he hadn't been all pitying and quiet around me neither, just given me the homework I'd missed. I mean, I'd never done it, but still.

"Ponyboy…right. I was wondering about him. He fast?"

Steve shrugged. "Said he ran track in his last school." I put it.

As I was speaking, a group of socs headed over, along with some other guys I didn't recognize. They weren't socs or greasers…just middle-class guys who had been on the team before from what I could tell, because the coach headed over and they all huddled up, talking and probably strategizing about the year. Heck if I knew. I played football with the guys, but I wasn't really one for organized sports. Never really got it.

Ponyboy appeared then, hands in his pockets. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a short-sleeved gray t-shirt, a couple of fading bruises purple against his pale arms and a backpack slung over his shoulder. I could tell he was self-conscious about the bruises by the way he kept his head down, never looking around or nothing. He stayed at the edge of the group, not talking to anybody until the coach called everyone to line up. For a while, he talked about the schedule and what they'd be doing for try-outs…mostly just running in circles around the track and stuff. Like I said, I don't like organized sports, but the guys on the track all paid close attention. Ponyboy was the smallest kid out there, but he didn't look worried.

Mr. Meyers read off names from his clipboard, handing out pieces of paper with numbers on them that the guys all pinned to the front of their shirts, I guess so he could tell them apart when they were running. Then, as they were pinning them on, he talked some more and Steve yawned beside me, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a math textbook. I nudged him and he rolled his eyes.

"What, Soda? You want me to watch the kid run? Fine. I'll watch him run. But I ain't gotta watch him listen to Mr. Meyers talk too, do I? I got a test this week." I sighed and left him to it. He didn't get it. He didn't feel it. I guess I could forgive him for that. He didn't have a brother…didn't know what it felt like. And I knew this kid wasn't my brother…I kept letting that thought run away with me, but I couldn't help it. He wasn't my brother, but he was important.

The coach finally stopped talking and I nudged Steve who reluctantly looked up from his textbook. As they were lining up and the coach was pulling a stopwatch out of his pocket, he happened to glance up at the bleachers, freezing when he saw us. I grinned, giving him a thumbs up, and nudged Steve who rolled his eyes and lifted his hand in a half wave. Pony glanced around, eyes narrow and confused until they came to rest on me again. I grinned and jerked my head at the coach, urging him to pay attention, and he turned around, getting ready to run.

They all crouched down, the coach standing on the sidelines with a stopwatch in hand. Then, on his mark, they were off. I'd never watched a real race before, either at school or otherwise. The only sport I'd ever been interested in watching was football, and that was only because my big brother played it. It was fun to go to his games and cheer him on, and I found myself leaning in, hands clasped tight, elbows on my knees as I watched Ponyboy run.

He started in the middle of the pack of guys, arms pumping as they all ran, the coach watching his stopwatch as they headed for the first turn. A couple of guys pulled ahead…the ones who'd been milling around before try-outs with the coach. A few more found themselves in the back as they rounded the first turn of the track on the other side of the field from us. Ponyboy was in the middle, as they went around another turn…and then Steve was leaning forward elbows on his knees, and I had to squint a little to see him. He was moving forward…getting close to the front. Closer. And closer. And then he was in the front.

He pulled ahead of the other guys, elbows and legs flying as he ran, and as they came around the final turn and into the homestretch, he was a good couple of feet in front of the leader, a socy looking guy who stared after the red-headed kid as they all crossed the finished line a second or two after him.

I jumped up after a second, clapping loudly and cheering until Steve got a hold of my shirt and yanked me down, growling at me to shut the hell up. The guys on the field glanced at me with varying degrees of confusion, and Ponyboy went kind of red, shoving his hands in his pockets and glaring at the ground. I elbowed Steve until he let go of my shirt, grinning at Ponyboy who gave me a look that practically begged me to shut up.

The coach had them run a couple more times, mostly short sprints or 100 meters or something. I couldn't really keep up, or hear him all that well, but Ponyboy was in the top three in every race except one where he tripped close to the beginning but still found himself in fifth out of the group of fifteen or so guys. He had been right…he was really fast, and I had a feeling he'd downplayed how well he'd done in his last school.

The try-outs ran for about an hour before the coach dismissed them, letting them know that he'd post the names of everyone who'd made the team by the end of the week. I jumped up before Ponyboy could take off, yanking Steve along with me. He sighed dramatically and followed me as I climbed down, hopping to the ground and hurrying over to where the kid hesitated at the edge of the track, watching me warily. "Hey, Ponyboy! You weren't kidding, huh? You're fast!"

"Th…thanks." Up close, he didn't look all that great. He had dark circles under his eyes and didn't seem to be able to look me in the eye.

"You okay, kiddo?" I asked, reaching out and clasping him on the shoulder. He flinched a little. "Ponyboy?"

"Uh, yeah…I'm just tired." He muttered. "Stayed up late." I looked him over again, eyes lingering on the bruises on his arms until he crossed them against his chest, giving me a look that demanded I stop.

"You want a ride, kid? I gotta head home." Steve told him, shouldering his backpack and pulling his keys from his pocket. Ponyboy picked up his own backpack from where he'd thrown it on the bleachers and shook his head, shrugging on his threadbare jacket.

"No thanks. I'm gonna walk." He told him, trying to force a smile. "I need to go to the library." I wondered if that was true or if he just wanted to get rid of us. Either way, I couldn't just let him walk on his own. If he wanted me to leave him alone, he was gonna have to come out and say it to my face.

"Alright kid. See you around."

"I'll walk with you," I told him, waving to Steve who paused, staring at me with something like exasperation before rolling his eyes and throwing a wave over his shoulder.

"You…you ain't gotta…"

"I've got nowhere else to be," I told him simply. "Besides, it ain't safe to walk around on your own, you know?" He hummed under his breath, nodding a little, but when I glanced over, he was staring at the ground in front of his feet, almost smiling. I counted it as a win.

We left the track, heading through the gate that led to the road by the school, and started walking. The library was less than a mile from the school, and I wasn't about to walk in silence the whole time, so I started light. "How's school been going?"

"Fine."

"Better than your old one?" He looked up at me then, smiling a little and looking grateful.

"Yeah. A lot better." I grinned, throwing an arm around his shoulders. It was a risk, and he stiffened a little, then relaxed when I just pulled him over for a second, squeezing his shoulder and knocking him off balance. He laughed, pushing me off, and seemed to relax for once.

"I know we're nothing fancy, but it's good to know we've at least got Kansas beat." He snorted. "So, what do you need at the library?"

"Books." I rolled my eyes.

"Smartass."

"I gotta write a paper for history." He clarified, still grinning a little, but everything about him was hesitant. He didn't do stuff like this, I realized. Hang out with friends. Talk to people. Shoot, that was sad. But I could change that. I would change that. "You really ain't gotta stick around, though. I'll have to write it there."

"You know, I ain't been to a library in a while, but I'm pretty sure the whole point is to take the books home with you, right?" He rolled his eyes.

"Don't have a library card. You gotta have a parent or something sign you up." I nodded, vaguely remembering that but not commenting. I had one…Mom had taken me and Darry when we were kids to get us cards and had made sure we kept up with them, even though Darry had always checked up a lot more books than I had. I'd just gone to flip through magazines or something with Steve. "Do…do you like to read?" As far as personal questions went, it wasn't great. But coming from him, I'd take just about anything. I grinned, shrugging.

"Not really. Never had the patience for it. Darry does though. Reads the newspaper every day, and he's got a bookshelf full of books at home in his bedroom. He'd probably let you borrow some if you wanted." His eyes lit up at that, his face going from interested to downright hungry in a flash. I chuckled. "I'll ask him. He knows where you live, so he'll know where to find you if you don't bring them back." As soon as I said it, I worried that he'd take that the wrong way, but he just smiled, looking down at his feet.

The library was nice and warm after the walk in the cold afternoon, and I rubbed my arms a little. "Man, I'll be glad when it gets warm again," I grumbled.

"It's October." He reminded me, and I heard the smile in his voice. "Ain't gonna be warm again for at least five more months."

"Maybe I ought to move to Texas or something. Heard it's always warm down there." I glanced at him as he made his way over to the shelves that had numbers printed on the ends. "What do you think? Ever been?"

"I'd never been outside of Kansas before I moved here." He told me absently.

"I've never left Oklahoma," I said, running my fingers along the spines of the books and following him down the aisles until he reached some books about the civil war. They were all thick and boring looking, and he pulled one out, flipping through for a second before putting it back. "My parents took me and Darry camping a few times out in the country, and my dad took us hunting. I never was any good. You ever been?"

"My grandfather took me hunting once." He told me, and I blinked in surprise.

"Yeah?"

"He showed me how to shoot a gun." Ponyboy was flipping through a different book but didn't seem to be seeing the pages. "Said I was a good shot. Told me…told me he was proud of me." Ponyboy swallowed hard. "But when he took me out…I didn't want to kill the deer. He got real mad…never took me again." His voice died a little at the end, and I moved over, not touching him but staring over his shoulder at the book in his hands.

"How old were you?"

"Nine." I put a hand on his shoulder then, squeezing a little.

"Yeah, I always messed around more than I did any actual shooting. Darry always got the most ducks. I didn't really want to kill nothing either." I didn't tell him that my dad had put me up on his shoulders and told me it was okay…that there was no shame in not wanting to hurt something. It didn't seem fair that no one had told Ponyboy that…so I did. "There ain't no shame in that, you know? I don't want to hurt a deer, either. Darry and my dad would kill the ducks for food, or Dad would sell the meat." I shrugged. "We could always use the money."

Ponyboy looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine. He wanted to believe me. He wanted me to be right…that there was nothing wrong with him for not wanting to hurt something and that his grandfather had been wrong. I squeezed his shoulder again. "Which one of these boring old books you gonna get?" I asked, keeping my voice soft. The corner of his mouth turned up and he shrugged.

"Don't guess it really matters much. They all talk about the Civil War and that's all I need." He told me, grabbing one he'd looked at before.

"That all you need?" I asked. He nodded, and I pulled the book out of his hands, jerking my head for him to follow me as I headed to the front of the library. After a second of confused hesitation, he did, trailing me as I reached the front desk. The librarian looked up, her smile confused.

"Hello, Sodapop." She greeted, glancing behind me at the kid.

"Hey, Mrs. Martin." I put the book on the counter and reached for my wallet, pulling out the old laminated library card with my name on it. The one my mom had gotten for me that I kept on me at all times, even though I hadn't been to a library since before she'd died. Ponyboy edged a little closer.

"Sodapop…" He murmured, but I cut him off.

"This is Ponyboy. He just needed a book for school." She didn't ask why I was checking it out, just nodded as she pulled the card out of the back of the book and handed my library card back.

"Nice to meet you Ponyboy." She greeted instead, and he gave her a brief smile, murmuring that it was nice to meet her too. Once she'd stamped the back, she handed the book back to me. "It will be due back in two weeks." She told me, glancing again at the kid beside me as I handed him the book.

"Hear that, kid. Two weeks. Don't make me come and shake you down to for library fine money." He snorted, following me out the door, then turning to me as we headed down the steps.

"You didn't have to do that." He told me quietly.

I just shrugged. "I ain't gonna use that library card. Somebody ought to get some use out of it."

"I could have just written the essay at the library." I ruffled his hair and he gave me an almost glare, pulling away.

"Yeah, but then who would have walked me home?" He laughed outright at that…it was incredulous laughter, but it still counted.

"Why do you need someone to walk you home?" He demanded.

"Because, kid! There's socs everywhere. Never know when some of them are gonna turn up, and then I'm gonna need some backup."

"I ain't no good in a fight," He muttered.

"Heck, kid. You saved Johnny's life, so I'd say you're pretty damn good." He was quiet for a minute, and I ruffled his hair again, gentle this time. "Thank you for that, by the way, kiddo." I murmured. "If it hadn't been for you…"

"You guys already thanked me." He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. I decided to let that go, changing the subject again.

"How are things at home?" I asked. It was apparently the wrong question, because he went stiff again.

"Fine."

"He bugging you?" It was a dumb way to phrase it, but the kid knew what I meant. He shrugged a little.

"He's mostly leaving me alone." Ponyboy admitted. It wasn't right. A kid shouldn't have to live with a guy that either beat on him or ignored him. I knew he didn't want to talk about that, so I tried to talk to him about the track team again, but he'd clammed up and I wasn't sure how to fix it. He still looked real tired and his eyes were on the ground once more, jaw tight.

As we approached his house, he turned off toward his gate before I could ask if he wanted to come over. "It ain't his fault, you know?" Ponyboy asked at the last minute, his eyes desperate and sad. "He never wanted me in the first place. It ain't right, him getting stuck with me." I felt my jaw drop, but before I could tell him how ridiculous that was…how that didn't give the asshole the right to beat on him, he was pushing through the gate and hurrying through his front door. Thankfully, their driveway was empty, so at least he'd get some time to work on his homework without the asshole hurting him. But then what? How long before he was beating on him again? And how was I supposed to help a kid that didn't think he deserved it?


	14. Grocery Run

**Grocery Run**

Scouring the aisles, I did some math in my head as I grabbed a second loaf of bread. A couple of bills had come in all at once, and even though Soda was working overtime a few nights this week, we were still having trouble. Beer was gonna have to wait. Two-Bit could buy his own. Food coloring could wait too. I knew Soda had a lot of fun using it in the kitchen, but we couldn't afford anything extra at the moment. At first, right after our mom and dad had died, he'd become pretty withdrawn no matter how me and Steve tried to bring him out of it. Dallas and Johnny had kept away for a while, maybe not knowing how to act, and I didn't much blame them, but it had made the house feel even emptier.

Then one morning I'd woken up and found a bacon and egg sandwich at the table…but the eggs had been blue. Sodapop had sat at his own place at the table, eating purple eggs mixed with purple jelly, and I'd rubbed my eyes a few times, trying to figure out if the eggs were really different colors or if I was just tired. That night when I'd gotten home from work, our pasta was bright pink and still, Soda hadn't said anything, just eating like nothing was different. It hadn't been until the next day when I'd caught him adding green food coloring to the eggs that I'd laughed, and he had too. Two-Bit and Steve had come over for breakfast and both had just given each other looks behind Sodapop's back until I'd started laughing again.

"The hell man…why are the eggs green?" Steve had asked, and Soda had grinned.

"Why not?" If it got him to smile and laugh again, I'd eat just about any color food he wanted to make, although I did get some jabs about the pink spaghetti leftovers I had brought to work for lunch the next day. Still, we had to skip food coloring, and I bought more peanut butter and pasta, knowing they were both cheap. Beans and rice were easy too, and I remembered a time when I hadn't had to think about stuff like that. I caught sight of a guy trudging along beside his mom, probably Sodapop's age or a little younger, and I wondered if he knew how lucky he was. Then I remembered being dragged to the grocery with mom when I was younger, my little brother in tow always causing trouble, and realized I'd never known how lucky I was either.

Usually Soda and I went to the grocery together, or he'd go after work, but I'd offered to just stop by after work since I figured him and Steve would want to go out and do something…it was a Friday night and he hadn't going out much lately. He'd been awful worried about the kid next door, even going and watching the kid's track try-outs.

My mind drifted briefly to the boy and I wondered what he was up to on a Friday night? I assumed his uncle was working, and I hoped he'd meet up with Dallas and Johnny like he had a few times before over the last month. Dal had mentioned that they'd met him at the movies once or twice, and he'd taken both kids out to dinner a few times at the diner. That was good…the kid needed to eat more and wouldn't take much help. Steve had mentioned that the kid wouldn't take money or food from them at school, only when they went to the DX and even then he put up a fight.

He had to be hungry, so I guessed he was just too proud. Or maybe he still didn't trust us. We'd tried awful hard to get him to, but it's hard to undo fourteen years of people treating you like shit, which is what I'd had to remind Sodapop of more than once. Sure, the kid was safe with us, and we'd help him out as best we could. But maybe other people had offered to help him before. And maybe it hadn't turned out so well. He was afraid. So we'd give him time. Johnny had been kind of a skittish kid at first too.

Sodapop had walked him home from school after track practice once or twice when he could, since the kid had made the team pretty easily. The last time, he'd come home kind of upset, dropping onto the couch on a Wednesday evening, jaw tight as he stared listlessly at the TV while I looked up at him over my newspaper. "What's up, kiddo?" I'd asked, kicking him gently in the shin, and he'd jerked his leg away, uncharacteristically quiet. "Soda?"

"Something's up with Ponyboy." He'd told me, shrugging. He knew by now that the rest of us didn't feel as strongly about the kid as he did. Heck, in Soda's mind, the kid was already family or something. It was odd…I'd never seen him take to someone like he had Ponyboy Davis. But I had figured he was sick of us pointing out that he was jumping the gun just a little. It wasn't like we didn't like the kid. Heck, I liked him fine. Sure, he could be kind of hard to talk to, but that's just because he was still scared of just about everyone. He had started to relax a little around us, but not a whole lot.

I'd settled for putting my paper down and lifting an eyebrow, showing him that I was listening. "He's…he's quiet." Soda had spit out, looking up at me and looking kind of worried.

"He's always quiet, kiddo." I'd reminded him quietly.

"No…it's different, Dar. He's…he's real sad about something."

"Maybe his uncle's giving him a hard time." I'd reasoned. That hadn't cheered him up any, instead heading out and meeting Steve somewhere, and we hadn't really talked about it since. That had been about a week and a half ago, and I'd resolved to try and find the kid and maybe have a talk with him…make sure everything was going okay at home. I mean, I figured it wasn't great, but Two-Bit had mentioned that the kid didn't have any new bruises that he could see, so it looked like maybe Tim had gotten to the guy after all.

I hadn't run into the kid, though, and so I hadn't been able to talk to him yet. Once or twice, I'd come home and found his driveway empty, and had thought about knocking on his door, but I…I just hadn't. I didn't have any reason to impose on this kid's life like that. He was a good kid, but I had my own kid brother to worry about. I hated the situation the kid was in, and it sure wasn't fair. I'd help him out if he was in trouble, but that was all. I wasn't risking my own family.

Blinking and rubbing my eyes to shake away the thoughts, I pushed my basket toward he front of the store. I'd been standing in the middle of the aisle for about five minutes now, and I needed to get home. I was about to check out, looking grimly at the basket full of groceries and knowing that this month was gonna be tight, when I heard the familiar voice. "It ain't for me, man. If I don't get it, my uncle's gonna kill me." I pushed the cart down the aisle, peering around the jars of sauce and stacks of apples to find the kid from next door standing in the checkout line, a single paper bag of groceries balanced on the bag holder and two six-packs of beer on the conveyer belt. He was the only one in line, and a few women with their kids glanced over, some leading their younger children down the aisles to get the shopping done.

The cashier, who was probably about my age, maybe a year or two older, was looking at him dubiously, suspicion in his eyes. I sort of knew the guy. We'd gone to the same school and I'd seen him around once or twice, but I wasn't sure when he'd graduated or dropped out, one. He'd also checked me out here plenty of times. Once, when he'd seen I didn't have enough for a bottle of chocolate syrup, he'd slipped it in for free, mumbling something about a defective cap or something. "Look, kid, you ain't even sixteen." He was telling the boy.

"The beer ain't for me!" He insisted, something like panic in his voice. To the cashier, it probably made him sound guilty. To me, he sounded terrified. And then I realized he probably wasn't kidding…his uncle just might kill him if he went home without beer. "I don't even drink, man. I swear." That was also true from what I could tell. I knew he smoked, because Johnny had mentioned giving him a cigarette, even though I never saw him smoking at his place. He probably couldn't afford cigarettes. But Dal had told me about offering him a beer once, but the kid had turned him down, telling him he didn't drink. I guess it made sense…his uncle sure drank enough for the both of them.

Pushing my cart to the place in line behind him, I walked over, dropping a hand on his shoulder. He about jumped out of his skin, looking terrified until he saw it was me, and I have to admit, I was a little gratified when he relaxed, an almost smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Oh….hi Darrel."

"Hey, Ponyboy." I nodded to the cashier. "Sammy."

"How's it going, Darry?" He glanced between me and the kid, still suspicious but less so. Everyone in town knew I was responsible for my little brother now. I guess that made them trust me a little more. It was still weird that people saw me as a grown-up now.

"Him and his uncle just moved in next door. Go ahead and sell him the beer, man. I'll make sure he don't drink none." Sammy gave me a look and I tried to tell him it was important without saying anything. Because it was. If this kid didn't bring beer home, he might be in from another beating that I wasn't sure I could protect him from, especially since he didn't come by the house anymore. So, nodding slowly, Sammy rang up the beer and told the kid it was $3.75. He pulled out three dollars from his pocket and I watched his ears get red, jaw going tight as he seemed to slump beside me. The beer had put him over…it was almost a dollar a six pack, and I wondered how long he'd have to live on the food filling a single bag.

"Here." I reached into my pocket and pulled out three quarters, taking the three dollars from him and handing it all over to Sammy, then put my hand back on his shoulder. The kid was only fourteen…it was bad enough his uncle couldn't be bothered to buy groceries for them. The poor kid looked about half-starved anyway. But he didn't even give him enough money to buy his stupid beer. The look the kid gave me was so grateful it about broke my heart.

The cashier handed the kid his receipt and Ponyboy grabbed his bag in one hand, trying to juggle the beer with his other, but I reached out, grabbing one and putting it in my basket. "Hang on a sec, Ponyboy. I'll give you a ride home, okay?" He hesitated, glancing around, then giving me another heartbreakingly hesitant smile.

"Okay…thanks Darrel."

"Sure, Pony." He waited as I paid for my groceries, then the two of us headed out to my truck. He helped me put the groceries in the bag and I ruffled his hair as I passed, putting the cart away and then the two of us climbed into my truck.

"Thank you…for the ride. And…for helping me out. With the groceries." He murmured after a moment, glancing over at me, and I grinned, nodding.

"Not a problem, kiddo." I hadn't seen him for a while…a few weeks at least, despite telling the guys to invite him to dinner if he ever looked hungry. I figured he always looked hungry, but apparently he always said no if they invited him. He hadn't been to our house since he'd been enrolled in high school almost four weeks ago…since he'd left the house with Two-Bit. He looked okay…the black eyes had faded, as had the bruises, but he still looked too thin. There were no bruises that I could see, even though he was wearing a jacket and I couldn't see much of him. "How you doing?" I asked as we drove toward our street.

"I'm okay." He told me softly, leaning against the door like he might bail out at any moment. "How are you?"  
"I'm fine, Ponyboy." I told him with a smile. He was quiet for a minute so I figured I would be the one carrying the conversation. "So you get to do the grocery shopping?"

He gave a half smile. "Yeah…he doesn't usually have time." It almost sounded like he was defending his uncle and I hated it. No one ought to defend that asshole after how he treated this kid. And no fourteen year old should have to do all the grocery shopping.

"He only gives you three dollars?" I asked, trying to draw him out a little.

"No…" He trailed off, giving me a sheepish look. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet; I had to strain to hear him. "Every couple of weeks I swipe it from his wallet. Couldn't risk taking more than three dollars this time. Long as I get beer, I don't think he cares much. But if he found out and I didn't get his beer…I know I shouldn't…steal from him, I mean." He shrugged, not looking at me. "But if I don't, we'll never have any food." His ears were red again and I was surprised to realize this kid cared what I thought about him. It wasn't a bad feeling.

"Heck, Ponyboy, you do what you've gotta do." I told him softly. "You gotta eat, you know?" He made a noncommittal noise. "If you ever need anything…"

"I'm fine." He insisted, and I nodded, knowing that pushing the issue wasn't going to get me anywhere.

"How's school?" I asked, changing the subject.

"It's okay." He hesitated, then glanced up at me, a small smile turning the corner of his mouth. "Actually…they're gonna bump me up a grade." He told me, voice barely audible. Eyes widening, I turned to look at him as he sat huddled against the door.

"Seriously?" I asked. I'd always been real good in school even though Sodapop hated it. He had dropped out after our parents had died. I knew he liked working at the DX but I still hated that he was a dropout. He'd never liked school, and I'll admit, he'd never been real good at it. But I'd gotten scholarships after graduating, even though they hadn't been enough to get me to college. It sounded like Ponyboy was better at school than I was. Ponyboy nodded, looking shyly proud, and I reached out, gripping his shoulder. "Wow! That's awesome, Ponyboy! Congratulations, kiddo."

"Thanks." He murmured, the tips of his ears turning red, but the tiny, hesitant smile stayed firmly on his face.

"You're skipping a grade and Johnny told me you were doing real well on the track team. Keep it up and you might get a scholarship. You thought about college, yet? You're obviously smart enough!"

I glanced over at him, taking my eyes off the road for a second, and was surprised to find him staring straight out the windshield, a tear falling down the side of his face. His jaw was clenched real tight, hands fisted in his lap. He was fighting awful hard to keep it together, but he looked like he was about to break. "Pony?" I asked, squeezing his shoulder, taken aback. He didn't answer me, shaking as he fought back whatever was happening, clamping a hand over his mouth and pulling away from me, his shoulder pressed against the door. "Hey? Ponyboy?" When he was still silent, I pulled the truck over on the side of the road, reaching over, faltering when he jerked violently away. "Ponyboy? Hey, I ain't gonna hurt ya. What's wrong, kiddo?"

He shook his head, fumbling for the door handle and finally getting it. "Kiddo, hey, don't…"

"I gotta go…I'm sorry. Thanks for the ride." He choked out, flinging the door open. I reached for him, hand closing on empty air.

"Ponyboy, wait!" I called, stunned as he pulled the bag of groceries and the beer out of the bed of my truck, then took off down a side street, never glancing back. Sighing, I watched him go, wondering if knocking on his door and trying to get him to talk to me would get me anywhere. He might not have any new bruises, but he was still hurting. 'None of my business.' I reminded myself firmly. He wasn't my kid. I wasn't responsible for him…he had a guardian. He'd been fine on his own for years. Pushing the doubt down, I ran a hand through y hair and drove the rest of the way home.

The driveway next door was empty, and I wondered where the asshole was. Reaching into the back of my truck and pulling out some groceries, I headed inside, nodding to Soda who sat with Steve on the couch. "Give me a hand with the groceries, huh, Sodapop?" I asked, heading for the kitchen and dropping the bag on the counter, then glancing through the window at the kitchen next door. It was empty. They still didn't have curtains, and from what I could see, Ponyboy kept the counters clean as best he could, clearing away the beer bottles I'd see his uncle leaving around. Sometimes Ponyboy would do the dishes or I'd see him cleaning up. If I could catch his eye, he'd usually give me a scared, hesitant smile, but lately they'd been a little calmer. A little more friendly, like he almost trusted me. There was no sign of him now, though, and I wondered if he'd gotten home okay. I'd pulled off the road pretty close to our houses but still…it could be dangerous. I scolded myself for thinking like that…like this kid was my responsibility. But it sure was starting to feel that way, and I was startled to realize I didn't mind too much.

"What you looking at?" I jumped, eyes huge as I spun around and found Sodapop behind me, his own eyes wide as he stepped back a little, startled by my response. "Darry?"

"I saw Ponyboy at the grocery store." I blurted out, leaning against the counter. Soda put his bag of groceries down on the counter and watched me closely.

"Yeah? He okay?"

"I…I don't know, Soda. Something didn't seem right. He was getting groceries, but he barely had any food, and he didn't have enough money."

"You spot him?"

"Of course." I shook my head. "He told me he got bumped up a grade in school..."

"Hey! That's great. He seems real smart." Soda told me with a grin, arms crossed and sounded just as proud as if it had been his own little brother.

"Yeah, that's what I told him. Then…then the kid fell apart. Jumped out of the truck…"

"While you were driving?" He cried. I shook my head.

"No. I'd pulled off. I was trying to figure out what was wrong. But he jumped out, grabbed his stuff and took off."

"Think his uncle's giving him a hard time?"

"He looked okay." I told him uncertainly. "No new black eyes or split lips."

"He ain't got any new bruises or anything from what I saw." Steve put in, and we turned to find him standing in the doorway, jaw tight. As much as he talked about not liking kids, he sure looked out for this one.

"Why don't we go over tomorrow when his uncle ain't home…get him to come over and have lunch with us or something." Soda suggested. I nodded. Sounded like a good idea to me.


	15. Giving Up

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****Trigger warning for this chapter! Mentions of attempted suicide!****

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**Giving Up**

I was an idiot. If Darrel hadn't known it already, he sure did now. What had I been thinking? He'd lent me money to pay for groceries and convinced that guy to let me buy beer. He'd given me a ride home. And when I'd told him that I was gonna get to move up a grade, he'd been…proud. That was the look in his eyes, I was sure of it. And all I had been able to think about was how I'd forged Aaron's name on the permission slip because he wouldn't care. No one would. But Darrel Curtis cared. My neighbor, the guy I'd literally run into on my first day here and who'd helped me when I was hurt and who'd let me stay at his house when Aaron would have hurt me…he cared.

It was wrong. All of it was wrong. I was hit with it as I put the beer in the fridge, avoiding the window. He was home. I'd watched his truck pull in his driveway. He was home and in his safe house and I wanted to be there. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be a part of this group of friends where people cared about each other and were proud of each other and didn't hurt one another and I wanted to get out of this house and never come back. But I couldn't. I'd never get out.

The panic threatened to choke me suddenly, and I hurried to my room, locking the door and sobbing into my hands as I slid down the wall. I'd never get out. Aaron would kill me. Of course, he would. My mom had died and my dad had died and so had my grandpa and I was next. He'd left me alone for almost a month and it was time for it to start again. Already he'd been snappier with me, even if he hadn't touched me yet. I didn't want to do this again. I wanted to get out. I wanted to be free. My mom had been free…free like the birds she was always painting.

The nightmares had gotten worse and worse as the weeks had passed, almost always featuring my mom in her pajamas, lifeless in our bathtub. But over the last week or so, they had changed some…apparently, my imagination had decided to mix things up. The guys from next door, mostly. Finding them in school and trying to talk to them, only to find that they couldn't hear me, or were laughing at me…or just ignoring me. Or knocking on the door of Darrel Curtis's house only to have him slam the door on my face. Sodapop jerking his arm away, telling me to leave him the hell alone.

None of it was real, of course, no matter how much that last one hurt. Sodapop had shown up for my track try-outs, dragging Steve along. I'd looked up from my spot on the track with a bunch of other guys, all older and taller than me, only to find him grinning at me, proud like he was my brother or something. Glancing up a few times when the coach was talking, I'd found him grinning at me, leaning in and watching real close, even though Steve had mostly been just staring down at his textbook. I didn't blame him. I figured he had homework or something.

When I'd made the team, Two-Bit had thrown an arm around my shoulders, squeezing and shaking me a little, grinning real big and laughing. "Congratulations, Ponyboy!" He'd yelled, causing a few other guys in the hallway to shoot us weird looks…including Steve, who'd just rolled his eyes. Two-Bit had ignored them, ruffling my hair and telling me that I was the youngest on the team. And sure, it felt nice to have someone congratulating me about something, especially something I was proud of. But lately, it was like I couldn't even feel it.

It had started a while ago…back at my old school, I'd figured it was just because Aaron was terrible and my mom was dead and I sometimes went so long without someone speaking to me that I wondered if they could even see me. I'd sit in the library, doing my homework, and all around me my classmates would walk around me, talking and laughing and never even glancing at me. I'd sit in the back of the classroom and even the teachers would ignore me. And then I'd go home and my uncle would either ignore me too or beat the shit out of me. Honestly, sometimes, it was almost better when he was hitting me…at least then I knew I actually existed.

Now, I had almost friends. They were being nice to me! Steve, Two-Bit, and Johnny all sat with me at lunch. They offered to treat me every day, or took me to the DX where Sodapop gave me free food. But it was still there…following me. Something in my chest always felt tight. When I got home from school, some days I'd just lay down in my room and stare at the ceiling, my body refusing to move, hot water gathering in my eyes and dripping out of the corners. I'd count the swirly lines that filled my ceiling, thinking that if I could just count all of them, I'd be okay.

At track practice, I would briefly feel…something. My chest would loosen when I'd run, and sometimes I'd win. The coach told me I was doing a great job. The other guys were…cordial. Friendly enough. Quiet but not outright mean. After my first practice, I'd looked up, almost disappointed to find the bleachers empty. Then I called myself an idiot. Of course, Sodapop wasn't there. Why would he be? Sure, he was a nice guy. They were all decent people. That didn't mean I was important to them. Soda had probably just come by after the tryouts because…because he had nothing better to do? Because he…why? Why had he done it?

I walked home alone, telling myself over and over that I wasn't upset that no one had waited. Then after the next practice, I didn't even look up...until someone called my name and I glanced up to find Johnny Cade grinning at me, elbows on his knees as he watched me. "Man, you're awful fast!" He jumped off the bleachers, shouldering his backpack as I grabbed mine.

"Thanks," I muttered, running a hand through my hair and grinning back at him. "What's going on?" I asked, and he lifted an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

He gave me a mock-offended look, chuckling. "What do you mean, Ponyboy?" I just watched him, and he shrugged. "Just figured you might want some company. Besides, I've got an English paper to write, and I was wondering if you'd mind looking it over." I was almost relieved. He wanted my help. That explained why he was there. At least it made sense.

Then the day before, they'd called me out of class, and all eyes had been on me. Feeling my face flush and my stomach turn, I'd grabbed my backpack, heading up to the front office where the principal was waiting. "Mr. Davis." He'd greeted, looking…pleasantly surprised. "Come on in." He'd invited.

"Hi, Mr. Garrison." I'd muttered, trying to meet his eyes and then sitting in the chair across from him. He'd pulled out a folder, looking over something before looking back up at me.

"Mr. Davis, I've been looking over your grades from your old school, as well as your work from the last couple of weeks." He went on for a while, telling me how impressed he was. Honestly, it didn't feel real. None of it seemed real. Then he was handing me a sheet of paper…a permission slip. A new schedule…I'd be in new classes…he wanted me to skip a grade. I'd be a sophomore in high school.

It wasn't like I had any friends in my grade. And if I skipped a grade, I'd graduate a year early. I could get out of that house a year early. So I forged my uncle's signature, figuring he wouldn't care one way or another. Darry had been the first person I'd told. The stranger from next door…the guy I'd barely ever spoken to. And he was proud of me. A stranger was proud of me.

It wasn't just the strange heaviness in my chest that followed me around…the way I barely ever wanted to do anything, even stuff I usually liked. I worked on my homework, wrote my papers, and then I laid on my bed and stared at my ceiling, counting. Just…counting. Feeling hot water drip down the sides of my face, listening to my uncle storm through the front door and eat whatever dinner I'd thrown together. And he left me alone. Had been leaving me alone. But I was waiting for it.

Our front door slamming woke me up, and I realized I'd been sitting on the floor, asleep. I must have been more tired than I'd thought. I hadn't gotten my homework done yet…it was Friday night so I didn't have to worry about that too much. I rubbed at my eyes, wanting to wash my face. I knew it was red and puffy from crying and the last thing I wanted that asshole finding out was that I'd been crying. He might think it was over him and I couldn't stand the thought of the satisfaction he'd feel.

The fist beating on my door made it rattle on its hinges and I froze, staring at it in horror. It was time. I wanted to be free. I wanted to get away and there was only one way to do that. The fist beat on my door again and I forced myself to stand up, strangely calm as I opened the door. He wasn't drunk…he hadn't had time yet. But he was mad and that was scarier. I looked at him, detached and resigned. I wanted to be free. Maybe he was gonna give that to me. I thought of the guys at school and brushed it off. They were nice guys, and hanging around with them had been fun. But they wouldn't miss me.

"There's money missing from my wallet you little shit!" He snarled. He was drunk. Even if I hadn't taken the money, he'd have beaten me anyway. I wasn't afraid. I didn't feel much of anything…hadn't for the last few days, despite Darrel and Sodapop's friends trying to talk to me every day at lunch. They'd learn soon enough. They didn't want to be friends with me. No one did.

"We were out of food. I got beer." I told him, my voice dead, and then he was off. Screaming. Loud, furious screaming I didn't want to make out, so I didn't. He just shoved me back at first, but I must have looked at him wrong because a fist hit my eye and I gave up, barely feeling his hand balled up in my shirt, holding me up as he hit me in the mouth this time, then dropped me, a foot coming back. He was wearing his work boots, and I gasped when I felt my ribs crack.

Kill me. I couldn't help the thought, but as soon as I thought it, I knew it was true. It was what I wanted. Just kill me. But he didn't. He left me on the floor, and before long he was slamming our front door behind him, and I lay on the floor, wishing my ribs would poke a hole in my lungs and that I would just die. Closing my eyes, I waited, but my body still wanted to live, and I couldn't live the rest of my life on the floor. I stayed still as I heard his truck pulling out of the driveway, waiting and wishing but still breathing.

The nightmares had been getting worse since the one I'd had a Two-Bit's place. But suddenly, I remembered them differently. Some of them. The ones about my mom. She'd been miserable. Even as a child, I'd known how sad she was. And so, she'd left in the most permanent way possible. She hadn't wanted me or her life, so she'd left it all behind. I could do that. I could leave it all behind. So easily.

I opened my eyes and stared at the box under my bed, my ribs shifting unpleasantly as I tried to push myself off the floor. Nothing much was in that box…an Agatha Christie book I hadn't bothered reading in weeks. A few old sketchbooks collecting dust. I hadn't wanted to draw in a long time. Groaning, I dropped back onto the floor, pressing a hand to my side, breathing hard. It had been almost a month…he'd somehow held off for almost a month, so I couldn't really complain. Still, I was crying, tears dripping onto my carpet. I hated him so much…myself too. I'd thought it was gonna be better. I mean, I knew it never really could be, but I'd hoped. Still living with the fear of him snapping was just as bad as the ribs he broke and the black eyes he gave me.

I tried to think of the guys. That made me feel better sometimes. Now it just left me feeling empty. I was an outsider…a no one. Useless. Worthless. There was something about me that made me unlovable. Wasn't that what my uncle had told me over and over, every chance he got. So I had the teachers fooled into thinking I was smart. So I had Sodapop and Darrel Curtis fooled into caring about me. The others too, I thought. It didn't matter. I didn't think I could do this anymore. I wasn't the only kid that got beat up, I knew that. Heck, Johnny came to school with bruises too. But he had his friends. Friends that would do anything for him.

Johnny was one of the best to hang out with at school. We'd sit in the library, doing homework sometimes. He was real nice, and he told me a little about his family and the other guys…stuff him and Dallas had gotten up to or how he'd gone with Sodapop and Steve to the movies or out to races. Ever since I'd been enrolled in school, I'd tried to steer clear of Sodapop and Darrel's house. They were nice and everything, but I couldn't stand the thought of them losing anything because of me. I saw Sodapop sometimes at the DX when the guys would take me there for lunch, but not usually outside of there. I missed him. Darrel too. They'd been decent to me and I'd latched on like a puppy. How pathetic could you get?

I limped to the bathroom, remembering my dream. Had it hurt? Was it easy? Quick. I wanted it to be quick. The guys next door might be kind of upset, but that was all. Probably Sodapop. And they'd forget about me pretty quick. They'd only known me for about a month. Then maybe they'd look back and realize it was all for the best. Leaving the bathroom door open, I looked around, then knelt beside the tub.

I stared at the pocketknife in my hand, my thumb running along the flat side of the blade. I'd stolen it from a store back in our old town…the only real thing I'd ever stolen that wasn't food. It hadn't been hard, but it had made me sick with guilt. Now I would put it to one last good use. This was how my mom had gone, seven years ago now. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. What did I honestly have here? I'd thought my uncle was gonna leave me alone. For weeks, he'd all but ignored me. I'd thought it was going to be okay. Looking past the blade, I stared at the tub. At least it would catch all the blood. I ought to do it in the middle of the kitchen…let him clean up the mess. But I thought about the guys next door who might come in at some point and couldn't stand the thought of them finding me dead in the kitchen like that.

My mom had gotten in the tub and filled it with water. Maybe that would make it easier. But I didn't want to wait for the tub to fill…I wanted it to stop. I wanted to stop hurting right then. My heart raced, the thumping loud in my ears as I leaned over the tub, ignoring my protesting ribs holding my arm over the empty tub. The veins were pale blue and ran from my palms all the way to my elbow, then disappeared under my sleeves. My arm was mottled with faint marks that would turn into bruises soon…unless you didn't get bruises after you were dead. Pushing that thought away, I took a deep breath, then pressed the sharp point of my pocketknife into my wrist. I couldn't remember how my mom had done it. I hadn't gotten a good look…or if I had, I'd blocked it.

I drew the blade down my wrist, slicing but knowing that I wasn't pressing hard enough. Still, the blood welled up and squirted for a second, then dripped down into the tub. Not enough. I knew it wasn't enough…but I couldn't make myself do it again. Watching the blood flow from my arm, I felt cold and terrified, like I'd woken up from a nightmare. It stung and burned and I didn't want to do it again.

Then the front door was thrown open, the noise of the door slamming against the wall making my stomach drop and my heart leap into my throat. My uncle hadn't locked it…I hadn't even closed the bathroom door. Pressing the knife to my other wrist but not feeling brave enough to push down, I waited, holding my breath and feeling my head spin a little. Why would my uncle be coming back so soon?

But the voice that filled the room wasn't my uncle. "Hey, kid? You here?" Groaning a little, I dropped my head onto the edge of the tub, praying that if I just stayed quiet, he wouldn't come find me.


	16. Getting Up

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**Getting Up**

I froze, staring at my arm that dripped blood into the tub. It flowed sluggishly down my hand, pooling in a bright red puddle. My knees ached from being pressed into the cold tile floor and my ribs were killing me and I wished more than anything I'd shut the bathroom door. It wasn't like we ever got visitors, though! My uncle was probably on his way to a bar so he wouldn't be home for hours…which is why I hadn't bothered. "Ponyboy?" He called, and I held my breath, praying he'd give up.

I could have gone ahead and finished if I was fast…but the cut wasn't deep enough. I'd need to do it again, and my other arm too…and hearing him yelling for me, I suddenly wasn't sure if I wanted this. I squeezed the knife, sniffling a little. Did I want to die here? On the bathroom floor of my uncle's house? My chest got tight and I bit my lip hard, then closed my eyes, dropping my head onto my hand and praying my new almost friend would just leave. Was he my friend? He'd talked to me some, and I'd seen him at the movies. He'd bought me dinner a few times. He was always nice enough to me…did that make him my friend? I didn't want to die here…but I also didn't want to live here, and there was nothing I could do about it. There was no way out. Dropping my head against the cold tub, I let my arm hang loose, my head spinning a little as I closed my eyes.

"Kid!" He yelled again, then he must have turned the corner and I tensed in the abrupt silence. Maybe if I were still enough, he wouldn't see me. "Oh shit! Ponyboy!" Dallas Winston was suddenly grabbing my shoulders and I bit back a sob, trying to pull away. He swore loudly then, slamming his hand against the wall. "What the hell? What…" He grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feel, putting the toilet seat down, then forcing me to sit on the lid, the knife dropping out of my numb hand and clattering on the floor. I flinched when he kept a hold of my arm, yanking a towel from the ring on the wall and wrapping it around my wrist…I didn't have the energy to fight, so I just sat there, letting him. Maybe the cut had been deeper than I'd thought. Still, he was holding pressure against my wrist until it ached.

"It ain't even that deep..." I tried to tell him, but he turned on me, looking so mad I pulled back. I'd never seen him real mad before. I wasn't scared, though. He'd never given me a reason to be scared of him. I knew other people were, though. Especially some of the guys at school.

"Shut up." He snapped, digging through our bathroom cabinet until he managed to fish out some alcohol, then moved the towel and dumped it onto my arm, blood and alcohol mingling and dripping to the floor. I hissed, starting to pull away weakly, but he held me tight. Then he paused, looking me up and down, his voice getting a little softer, but not much. "The black eye's new. What else did he do to ya?" I wiped at my eyes, glaring at the floor and ignoring him. "Ponyboy?"

"Go away, Dallas." I murmured, trying to pull away again, my eyes hot. "Please?" He sighed, pressing the rag against my arm again. It was still bleeding, and the tub was streaked with blood. Lightheaded, I dropped my forehead onto my free hand.

"Stay right there, you hear me kid?" He demanded, reaching down and grabbing my knife, which he dropped into his pocket. I didn't answer, and he ran water in the tub, half-heartedly splashing the blood until some of it ran down the drain. Then he left me in the bathroom, coming back with an open bottle of soda he pushed at me. "Drink it." I ignored him. "Kid, you drink this or so help me…"

"What?" I snapped. "What the hell you think you can do to me that the asshole hasn't already done?" I hated myself for crying in front of him, but I couldn't stop.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second, then held out the bottle of soda again. "You'll get sick if you don't drink something after losing that much blood. Come on." He urged, his voice softer now. Reasonable.

"He's gonna kill me one day anyway, you know?" I whispered, shrugging and staring up at the ceiling. He stayed where he was and I took the bottle, sipping the coke and wiping my eyes.

"He's not going to kill you. We ain't gonna let him."

"We?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah, kid. We. The gang. Heck, Tim too."

"I think Tim already tried." I told him with a watery half smile. "Came over and got my uncle to put me in school. But Darrel can't do nothing, or he'll risk losing Sodapop. I can't hide out in Two-Bit's house…Aaron might cause trouble for his mom." I didn't mention the others. I knew Steve's dad was a jerk and Johnny's parents beat on him too.

"We'll figure something out. Maybe you can't move in with them or nothing, but Darrel Curtis ain't gonna stand by while your uncle beats the shit out of you. There's nothing illegal about giving you a place to sleep." He dropped a hand on my shoulder while I took another drink. "What else did he do to ya? How bad are you hurt?" He asked, looking like he couldn't have cared less, but I didn't believe it. It he didn't care, he wouldn't have bothered patching me up. I knew what it looked like when people didn't care.

"He broke a couple of ribs I think. Kicked me a bunch of times." I admitted.

"How come?" He asked, pulling a bandage out from the first aid kit under the cabinet and wrapping it around my wrist over a piece of gauze.

My voice broke again and I shrugged. Sure, he'd said it was because of the money, but I knew better. He would have found an excuse soon anyway. "I don't know. I never…I never know…"

"Hell, my old man was the same way. It's why I split." He told me, his voice never wavering even when I started crying again. "One night he was beating the hell out of me and I just hit him back." He laughed a little, the smile feral. "He lost a couple of teeth and I never gave him the chance to lay a hand on me again." He taped the bandage down and sighed, his arms resting on his knees from where he crouched in front of me. I stared at the bandage dully, wiping my eyes again.

"Guess I'm a coward, huh?" He looked up at me then, eyes narrowed in confusion. "Couldn't even finish it."

Dallas reached up, smacking me in the back of the head none too gently. "Killing yourself wouldn't make you brave, kid. Anybody can die."

I kept staring at my wrist. "It's how my mom died." I don't know why I told Dallas that…maybe because he was acting like he didn't care. I knew he wouldn't tell me how sorry he was like Two-Bit's mom, or look at me different like Sodapop. I mean, I liked Sodapop a lot, and he was great, but Dallas wouldn't act like he cared one way or the other. He just nodded, lips in a tight line. "I found her in the bathroom when I was seven…I thought it would be easier."

"Come on, Ponyboy." He told me after a moment, standing and holding out a hand. I took it, following him as he headed toward the door, my hand pressed against my side. Leaving me standing in the living room where he told me to 'stay' like I was a dog, he disappeared for a second and came back with Aspirin and a glass of water that I swallowed without complaint. "You alright?" He asked as I shut the front door behind me, leaving the glass in the living room.

"Fine." I told him shortly. He grunted, apparently not interested in furthering that conversation. There was a truck in the driveway next door...I dropped my eyes to the sidewalk, and followed Dallas to a car I didn't really recognize. Then again, I hadn't spent a ton of time with Dallas…and none of it had been alone. Hesitating, but figuring Dallas wasn't gonna hurt me at this point, I got in the passenger's seat. Even if he did, I didn't have it in me to care. "What were you doing at my house anyway?" I wondered.

"Gonna see if you wanted to come to the movies with me and Johnny. It's Friday night, kid. Figured you'd get bored hanging out alone." He shrugged.

"The hell do you care?" I knew I sounded like a jerk, but I didn't know what to make of this guy…of these people. He sighed, turning to look at me as he drove, looking irritated.

"I'm only gonna say this once, kid, you hear? So you'd better listen." He waited for me to nod. "You're a member of our gang now, okay? You're our buddy." I blinked at him, stunned. It wasn't that I thought they hated me or nothing…but to hear Dallas, the mean looking hood who'd been nothing but nice to me but who didn't seem like to touchy-feely type, tell me that I was their buddy…I wasn't sure what to say. "Sodapop acts like he wants to adopt you, so does Two-Bit's mom, and even Steve likes ya. So that's why I care. Glory, Ponyboy, we ain't exactly been subtle. You act like you've never had friends before, kid."

"I haven't." I told him simply, my voice barely there, and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Well now you do. And trust me when I say it isn't weird for us to sneak into the movies on a Friday night." I gave a shuddering breath, grinning a little, and picking at the bandage on my wrist. It shouldn't have felt so good to hear him say that. It shouldn't have made me feel so much better…almost free. Not quite. My uncle still had control over me. But I wasn't alone. And if Dallas, the toughest one in the group said it, it had to be true. He wouldn't say nothing just to make me feel better. I wiped a little at my eyes, staring out the window as he drove and wondering where we were going. And then he pulled up to the movie house.

Johnny was already outside when we got there, hanging around the front, blowing on his hands. He wasn't wearing a coat and neither was I…but I didn't care. Dallas had said they were my friends. I wanted to throw my arms around him and thank him, but that was pathetic and he might change his mind. "Hey, Pony." Johnny grinned when I climbed out of the passenger's side. They did that sometimes…shortened my name. It was weird, but I didn't dislike it. I let myself grin back at him, nodding a hello as Dallas climbed out of the car.

Johnny's eyes flashed down at my wrist but didn't linger there, and I fought the urge to hide it. "You alright?" He asked, jutting his chin toward my eye.

"Yeah." I told him shortly, running a hand through my hair. "I'm fine." I meant it, for the first time ever. I really felt fine. These were tough guys…guys that got into organized fights and got locked up sometimes. They'd hid me from my uncle when I'd first showed up, and now they were my friends. My friends. I had gone from having no friends to having six. It didn't seem real…it didn't seem like it could be possible that I would suddenly have people to watch my back.

Dallas dropped a couple of coins into my hand and we all headed inside, buying tickets and popcorn that I scarfed down. Glory I was hungry. I shared it with Johnny too, and we ate and drank our sodas, me in between him and Dallas who glanced around the theater, probably keeping an eye out for socs or whoever else would want to fight us. My wrist still stung and the aspirin was only kind of helping my ribs and I was awful tired, but I didn't want to think about any of that.

It only took about half an hour for the doubt to set in, though. What if he'd just said that because he felt bad for me. I mean, he didn't see like the type to do something like that, but what if he was? What if they just pitied me? Or worse, what if I did something wrong? Made them mad at me? And then I'd lose the only friends I'd ever had and I'd known about them for all of about seven minutes and already I didn't know if I could stand the thought.

Johnny kept stealing glances at me throughout the movie, and I could almost feel my eye swelling. I was just so glad to be away from my uncle that I didn't care much though. I figured after the movie that I'd head back to the lot, and I'd probably be fine. I just needed to sneak back into the house and get a coat or something. When the movie was over, I assumed Dallas would go somewhere else, and I'd just tell him I was gonna go to the lot to sleep, but he turned to us.

"Johnny, go to Buck's. It's too cold to be sleeping outside, you hear? You too, Ponyboy." I blinked in surprise, but his tone was commanding. He was gonna let me sleep at his place. Johnny nodded, like he expected this, and so I followed suit, nodding and figuring that if he was offering a safe place to sleep, I was gonna take it. "You can sleep on the floor. If I find you in my bed, I'll throw you out the window." I glanced at Johnny, trying to read his reaction, but he was grinning so I let myself smile.

"Sure thing, Dal. Thanks." Johnny told him.

"I'll be there later…got something to do." He told us, then reached into his pocket, handing me my knife back. I pocketed it, taking note of the look he was giving me. A warning. I wasn't sure what he had to do, but I nodded a little anyway. I wasn't gonna try nothing. It had hurt something awful anyway.

Johnny nudged me and turned, leading me down the street. He walked with his hands shoved in his pockets, both of us quiet until he turned to me again. I'd never been to Buck's so I followed his lead, ignoring the fact that he was staring until he spoke. "Your arm okay?" He asked.

"Yeah."

He didn't seem convinced, still staring down at my arm. He was my friend. He was concerned about me. Was this what that felt like? It was weird…but nice. Darrel and Sodapop had been concerned about me too. So that's how friends acted. I liked it. "What happened?" He asked as we walked, leading me down another street as we headed northwest into the rougher part of town. But it was mostly rough, greasy looking guys around and none of them spared us a glance. "They know I'm friends with Dally and Darry, so they don't bug me." He told me quietly as an aside, then nodded toward my arm. The bandage on my arm had a little bit of blood, but I ignored it, keeping it close to my side.

"I cut it." I told him simply, feeling my stomach drop. I knew I shouldn't be telling him. He'd think I was crazy. Or maybe he'd get it. He gave me a look, eyebrows lifted.

"How?"

"With a knife." He faltered then, blinking and looking at me a little closer.

"You…how come?" He asked, fighting between keeping his eyes on where we were going and looking at me. I didn't want to answer that. Instead, I stared at my feet, walking down the road with him and hoping I didn't bump into anyone. "Pony? Did…did you do it on purpose?"

"Yeah." I murmured. He didn't say anything else for a long time. Not until we'd reached a loud bar with country music blasting. He walked right in, me on his heels, and we dodged drunks and girls who were only half dressed sitting in the laps of guys who were kissing them and doing other stuff. Ears burning, I stared at my feet, following Johnny up a back staircase and dodging a goat that trotted by. He led me up to the third floor, then down a hallway until we got to a room that stepped into, shutting the door behind me and muffling the country music from below. I hated country music, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Glory, if my life had a motto, that would be it.

It wasn't a huge room, just a bed shoved against one wall, a dresser beside it with an ashtray full of butts on top, and some beer bottles on the floor. Johnny opened a closet and pulled out a blanket, putting it on the floor, then pulled out two more, making us a bed. I was wondering if there were any blankets for me when he gestured for me to lay down, even though it was only about nine pm. I was exhausted and I guess Johnny was fine with going to bed early, because when I joined him on the makeshift bed, he threw half of a blanket over me. We used another folded up blanket as a pillow, and I wondered if Dallas had all those blankets so Johnny would have a place to sleep.

I could hear the soft thump of music from below, but it wasn't too loud, and I was awful tired. Closing my eyes, I tried to relax, then Johnny spoke beside me. "Hey, Pony?"

"Hm?"

"Don't do it again, okay?" He asked, voice soft and almost scared. "You ain't gotta do that. I know it sucks but…you got us now. You dig?"

For a long time, I just stared at the wall, hot tears dripping down my face, and I wiped them away, trying not to let on I was bawling like a baby. He just lay beside me, quiet, until I was able to nod. "Yeah. I dig."


	17. Looking Out

**Looking Out**

"Johnny, go to Buck's. It's too cold to be sleeping outside, you hear? You too, Ponyboy." I ordered. Both kids nodded and I wondered how my Friday night had turned into this. When I'd started caring about not one, but two kids that could barely take care of themselves…no. That wasn't true. The kid…Ponyboy could take care of himself. He'd been taking care of himself for his whole life apparently. A mom who didn't want him. A grandfather and an uncle who beat on him. This kid was used to taking care of himself. But even I knew that kids could only take care of themselves for so long. I remembered being fourteen, living with a dad that hated me. I remembered life before I found the Curtis's.

Either way, I was apparently responsible for making sure these two kids lived, so I crossed my arms, making myself look stern. Like I was somehow fit to be a responsible person who told kids what to do. That was a joke. I barely kept myself alive most days…now I was responsible for these two. "You can sleep on the floor. If I find you in my bed, I'll throw you out the window." Pony cracked a smile, almost laughing after Johnny grinned…like he was waiting for permission to think it was funny. Glory, that asshole had done a number on this kid. Heck, they all had.

"Sure thing, Dal. Thanks." I grunted. Johnny would do anything I asked. I was well aware of that. So I tried to keep that in mind when ordering him around. Apparently, Ponyboy was going to be the same. They looked up at me like a couple of puppies, anxiously waiting for my next order.

"I'll be there later…got something to do." Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the kid's pocketknife, tossing it to him. He caught it easily, stuffing it into his own pocket. I doubted he'd try to off himself with Johnny around. If he did, I was gonna be real pissed. "Go on," I ordered. Nodding and immediately turning, they started walking, Johnny leading the way. I waited where I was for a second, watching the two of them start towards Buck's place. Then, hands in my pockets, I headed back to my car, figuring the two of them would be fine walking. It wasn't too cold out yet, and the two of them together could probably take on…one soc. A medium sized one. Probably. Sighing and trying not to think about it, I headed toward Darrel's house. One thing at a time.

The lights were on as I parked Buck's car in front of Darry and Soda's place, hurrying up the stairs and throwing their door open. "Don't slam the door!" Darry called from the kitchen as the door slammed behind me. I rolled my eyes, nodding to Sodapop who was watching TV with Steve on the couch. It was almost nine, so I was surprised they hadn't taken off yet. I didn't care if they knew, but it was Darry I needed to talk to. Maybe Tim too…then again, Tim couldn't do too much. He'd gotten the asshole to sign the kid up for school, and maybe ease up on him for a little while, but it apparently hadn't lasted very long. Almost a month. Maybe he could cause an accident at work. Or behind whatever bar he found himself at on nights like this. And maybe he'd let me come along.

Darry glanced up from the counter where he was dipping chicken in some kid of breading and putting it on a baking sheet. "Hey, Dal." He muttered, still focused on the chicken.

"Hey, man." I glanced around the mostly clean kitchen. Those two did a good job of keeping things just as nice as their folks had. "Kind of late to be starting dinner…" He shrugged.

"Yeah. Had some stuff going on earlier…" He trailed off and I wondered if that 'stuff' had something to do with the kid currently on his way back to my room at Buck's…where he probably shouldn't be. Buck's was kind of rough. But everyone there knew that Johnny was with me, so no one would bug him. Hopefully, that would apply to Ponyboy too. "You wanna stay for dinner?" He asked, then paused when I didn't answer. He gave me another looked, pausing as I continued to stare at the wall. I needed to tell him…he could help me keep an eye on the kid. And Soda liked Ponyboy…he'd want to know. "You alright, Dally?" He asked.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and wishing for a second that I hadn't bothered trying to find the kid and take him to the movies. It hadn't been much more than a whim anyway. Figured the kid might want to get out for a night, and since his uncle wasn't around, I'd just walked in. If I hadn't, none of this would be my problem. Then I took that back. If I hadn't found him…shit. The kid might have tried again. Pushed harder this time. He'd been crying…I'd thought he was dead when I'd grabbed him, but he'd been crying. I didn't know if he'd have tried again, but we couldn't let this happen. Glory, what was I, this kid's dad? I shook that thought off too. I was his friend, exactly like I'd told him. His buddy. He was a member of our gang now, and we looked out for our own. "Dallas?" Darrel asked, turning and crossing his arms, dinner apparently forgotten. I guess it wasn't really like me to get lost in thought.

"Where's Two?" I asked, ignoring his concern. If he thought he was concerned now...I dismissed that thought. Who the hell put me in charge of this.

He put the chicken down, staring at me outright. "No idea. What's going on, Dallas? You in trouble or something?" Of course, he'd jump to that conclusion. I didn't even blame him.

I figured I might as well spit it out. "The kid next door…Ponyboy…he tried to kill himself."

"What?" I turned to find Sodapop standing in the doorway, Steve beside him with his arms crossed, both looking sick. Darry had abandoned dinner and was staring at me with wide eyes, his face pale. The look on Sodapop's face…he looked like I'd just told him that Darry was the one in trouble…like this kid was his family. But didn't I feel the same way…like this kid was important to us? If I didn't cut it out, Tim was gonna say I was going soft.

"Where is he?" Darry demanded, first thing, and I realized that this kid was going to be a part of Soda's family, one way or another. It wasn't just Soda who cared about this kid…it was Darry too, for all his talk of not doing anything to get Sodapop taken away, I knew he'd do whatever he could to protect the scrawny kid next door.

"I sent him and Johnny to Buck's to sleep in my room." There was silence and I knew I was gonna have to tell the whole story. "I was gonna see if he wanted to come to the movies with Johnny and me. I went to his house since his uncle wasn't around and…I found the kid in the bathroom." I'd thought he was gone…I'd thought it was too late, the way he'd been slumped over that tub, blood dripping down his arm. "He cut one of his wrists…didn't go deep enough, but he lost plenty of blood."

Sodapop moved over to the kitchen table and sat down hard, dropping his head into his hands, going still. Sodapop Curtis was never still. Ever. When we'd been in school together, he'd always been tapping a pencil on his desk or bouncing a leg. But now, he just sat, feet still on the ground, face hidden in his hands. Steve stayed where he was in the doorway, jaw tight, as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. "He's fine now." I told him, almost blurting the words out. I wasn't about to let them worry. "Johnny ain't gonna let him do nothing."

"Yeah? What about the next time he's alone?" Soda snapped, arms crossed as he turned in the kitchen chair, jaw tight. It was almost a relief to see him move. Wasn't like I had much in the way of answers for him.

"His uncle got a hold of him," I told them. "I think he broke some ribs. Kid said he kicked him a few times. Guess that's what pushed him over."

Darrel swore under his breath, hands in tight fists at his side. Darry was a fighter, same as the rest of us. When socs messed with his little brother or jumped one of us...he could fight. But how the hell did we fight this? Beat up the kid's uncle? Get arrested for assault? Who were the cops gonna believe? The kid's guardian or a couple of greasers? Then what? What happened if he lost his guardian? Foster care?

"We gotta do something." Soda blurted, standing and looking up at his brother…it's who he always turned to when he needed help. "Darry…" His big brother clenched his jaw, looking torn. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for Soda…besides, I knew he wanted to help the kid, and we all knew how much Sodapop liked Ponyboy. But there was also his uncle to deal with. His uncle, who had custody and who was the kid's guardian.

"He can stay with me tonight. Maybe he can crash at Two's sometimes." I shrugged. I was seventeen. Wasn't like I could adopt the kid or nothing. I'd look out for him though.

"He's welcome to sleep here anytime." Darry spoke up.

"He's scared it's gonna cause trouble for you two with his uncle." I thought back to what he'd said. "That's probably why he ain't been hanging around much." It was true…the kid had been keeping his distance. For a minute, we were all quiet, Soda and Steve looking to Darry. It wasn't fair, though. Darry couldn't do nothing, any more than the rest of us could.

"I'll talk to him," Darry said, going back to the chicken, his jaw tight. "You sure it's not too bad?" I hesitated for a second. Talk to him? Did he really think just having a chat with the kid would fix this? I pushed that thought away and tried my best to answer him.

"The cut wasn't all that deep…not bad enough to cause permanent damage. It's probably gonna scar, though." I shrugged again, feeling uncomfortably out of my element.

"I need to talk to him," Darry told me again, drumming his fingers on the counter, his face still too pale. "You sure you don't mind him staying at your place tonight?"

"Yeah, man, it's fine."

"I'm off tomorrow…think you can bring him by here?"

"Yeah, if the kid will come." I shrugged. "Can't exactly drag him here." I mean, I could, but it seemed counterintuitive if we wanted this kid to trust us.

"No. Don't do that." Darry shook his head, glancing at Sodapop who was still staring at the table. "Can I come over in the morning?"

"Sure, Dar." I nodded. I just didn't know how much good it would do. I didn't know how Darry was gonna make this kid listen…to make him get it. But if Muscles wanted to try, I wasn't about to try and stop him.

It was odd...Soda would be better. I couldn't help thinking it, whether or not it was true. Sodapop was the one who did heart to hearts and who could comfort people and make them feel better. Darrel...well, he was nice and all that crap, too. Looked out for us like we were family and kept an eye out for Johnny. But Darrel wasn't really a touchy-feely guy. Not like Soda. Darry was all facts and logic and solutions to problems, not talking them out. It seemed to me like the kid needed someone to talk to about all this shit. Really talk to. He was only fourteen...what he needed was a parent.

Then again, wasn't that kind of what Darry was? I mean, he was Sodapop's big brother, but after everything that had happened, wasn't he sort of like his parent now, too? Maybe Ponyboy would see him as an adult...someone who could take care of this crap and really help him out, not just some guy to be his buddy. But was that what Darry wanted? To be the kid's stand-in dad? Not that it was any of my business. If Darry wanted to try and take this kid in, I'd back him up. He'd do a better job of looking after him than any of the rest of us. But we didn't live in some fantasy world where we all got to live together without shitty adults trying to ruin things. His uncle liked beating on him. He came looking for the kid. What was Darrel supposed to do about that?

I didn't stay for dinner. I couldn't. I hated it, but I was worried about Ponyboy. There were probably socs around, and those two seemed like twin trouble magnets. Waving off the concerned looks from the rest of the gang and passing Two-Bit on my way out, I ignored his questions, jumping back in Buck's car and hightailing it to the bar where, hopefully, two kids were sound asleep by then.

I pushed past the drunks already getting started, ignoring Buck who called out, asking for his keys back. Pulling them out of my pocket and tossing them in his general direction, I hurried upstairs. "Where's the fire, Winston?" Some girl called, probably about ten seconds away from falling off the barstool where she swayed beer in hand. I lifted my middle finger at all of them. One guy chuckled while another yelled out some insult I didn't bother returning. Instead, I headed up the stairs and listened as the music from downstairs got softer and softer, until, shutting my door behind me, I managed to muffle it all together.

In the dim light, I could just barely make out two shapes on the floor in the corner. They were safe, and I supposed that was all I could hope for. Instead of giving into the strange urge to kick one of them and double check, I dropped onto my bed, lighting a cigarette and staring at the burning tip as I lay back on my flat pillow. Taking in a deep breath, I inhaled the smoke, then blew it out, sucking on the cigarette until it was half-gone, then snuffed it out in the ashtray beside my bed. It was dumb to worry about the kids on the floor. They were asleep. What trouble could they possibly get into while they were sleeping? The kid's uncle wasn't gonna bother coming here, and even if he did, I'd beat the shit out of him and leave him on the street. Maybe a car would run him over…maybe I'd do that anyway.

I went through three cigarettes before I started feeling sleepy. Ignoring the growling in my stomach and wishing I'd swiped some food from Darry's, I put out the third stick and closed my eyes. My throat ached from the cigarettes and I had to fight the urge to couch. Every once in a while, I got the urge to quit smoking, but it never lasted long.

Someone opening the door woke me, and I jerked upright, and I looked around the dark room, a switch already clenched in my fist. In the dim light from the hallway, I could just make out the kid. "The hell…if you're trying to sneak off, kid, I swear…"

"Bathroom." He muttered, sounding half asleep, and I dropped the knife, feeling kind of shitty for snapping at him.

"Two doors down on the left." I told him, glancing over at Johnny who hadn't moved from the floor. He always had been a heavy sleeper. I looked over at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, barely able to make out the hands pointing to a quarter after four. Four am. Groaning, I scrubbed my hands over my eyes and waited for the kid to come back, shutting the door behind him and settling back down on the floor. "You okay?" I asked after a few minutes of silence. He hummed in agreement, but I didn't buy it. The kid had been moving pretty slow…then again, maybe he was just tired. What did I know?

A knock on the door woke me and I groaned, pulling the blankets over my head. "Um…Dallas?" That voice got me to open my eyes and glare at the kid staring at me from the corner. His eyes were bloodshot and exhausted looking, maybe ten seconds away from going back to sleep. "There's…someone…" I waved him off.

"Yeah, I got that, kid. Go back to sleep." He nodded, dropping back down onto the ground, and I stood, rubbing my eyes and making my way to the door before the person could knock again.

It took me a second to remember telling Darry he could come over in the morning, but as soon as I saw him, it all came back. He looked annoyingly awake, his lips turning up in amusement as I stepped into the hallway, letting the door shut behind me. "You get any sleep last night?" He asked, ignoring my middle finger as I leaned against the door, blinking rapidly to try and wake up.

"You work today?" I asked instead.

"I'm off. Is Ponyboy in there?"

"Yeah…they're both asleep. Let's go get some breakfast…we'll take some back for the kids." He gave me a long look, almost smiling again, then nodded.

"Yeah…alright, Dal."

He waited until we were in his truck to start asking. "He okay?"

"Still breathing."

"Think he'll try anything…"

"Not with Johnny there." I interrupted. I knew Johnny wasn't gonna leave him, and the kid wouldn't hurt himself and risk getting caught again. No…we were just gonna have to make sure he wasn't alone again. Which was totally possible. I had to fight not to roll my eyes.

Darrel pulled into a diner not too far from Buck's. He didn't usually come to this part of town unless he was visiting me, and I knew he didn't want Sodapop over here either. It was a rough part of town, but Darry didn't have to worry. Neither did I…or those two kids if I had anything to say about it. No one would mess with them unless they wanted to cross me.

We sat down at a table in the corner, ordering pancakes and enough to take with us for the kids, and Darry waited until the waitress brought us orange juice to start questioning me again. "You sure it wasn't too deep?"

"I patched him up. He's fine." He nodded.

"Soda's freaking out…didn't want to go out with Steve this morning. He wanted to have the kid over today before…well, you know." Darry sighed, resting his chin in his hand. "Shit Dal…"

"Tell me about it, man." He stared down at the table for a long time, jaw tight.

"I don't know what the hell I'm gonna to do." He admitted. It was a strange thing to hear from him…Darrel Curtis always knew what to do. He'd gotten custody of his little brother after their parents had died and he'd gotten two jobs and he always knew what to do. A pit opened up in my stomach and I tried to ignore it, downing the orange juice and wishing there was vodka in it. If I still believed in anyone, it was Darrel Curtis.

"You'll figure it out."


	18. Friends

**Friends**

I woke suddenly, my whole body going absolutely still as I realized I had no idea where I was. It only lasted for a few seconds, but the terror gripped my stomach in an icy fist as I stared at the wall a few inches in front of my face. Then it all came back, my whole body slumping into the blanket on the ground. I was curled up in a ball in the corner, my back to Johnny who was sound asleep, and although I had no idea what time it was, I did know I needed to use the bathroom but I had no idea how to find it.

I was in Dallas Winston's room at some bar. He'd found me the night before in my uncle's bathroom. The knife…the cuts on my arm. Pressing a hand against my wrist, I frowned at the gauze still wrapped there. The cut hadn't been too deep, but he had still been worried. So he'd sent me here with Johnny…and Johnny and I had fallen asleep on the floor.

Bar's had bathrooms, right? Surely, if Dallas lived here, there was a bathroom. Unless he went to the bathroom somewhere else…surely not. My brain was too tired to think about it anymore. I'd guess it was probably around 3 in the morning. Pushing the covers off, I stood, brushing some hair out of my eyes. Carefully leaning against the wall and feeling only half-awake, I stumbled to the door, glad of the dim lights coming in through the curtains from the street. Wherever the bathroom was, I'd find it.

Dallas's exhausted voice from behind me made me jump a little. "The hell…if you're trying to sneak off, kid, I swear…"

"Bathroom," I muttered, turning and finding him half sitting and leaning on his arm.

Then, sounding a little less hostile, "Two doors down on the left." Nodding my thanks even though he was probably going back to sleep already, I followed his directions, then, as soon as I finished up, I headed back to Dallas's room, ignoring the girl passed out at the end of the hallway with a bottle of beer next to her head. Hoping she wasn't dead, I dropped down onto the blankets next to Johnny and went back to sleep.

Knocking woke me what felt like a few minutes later. Opening my eyes, I looked blearily around the room as someone knocked again. "Um…Dallas?" I called, not sure if he was awake. He shot me a look from his bed, his hair a rat's nest on his head, and I wasn't sure if he was as tired as I was or if he was just always grumpy in the mornings. There was another knock and I gestured feebly. "There's…someone…"

"Yeah, I got that kid." He softened a little then, and I guess I must have made some kind of face. "Go back to sleep." I obliged, dropping back down onto the blankets and closing my eyes, trying not to listen when he opened the door and started talking to someone out in the hallway. I almost thought it sounded like Darrel Curtis, but that was a dumb thought. Must be someone that sounded like him. Surely Darrel had to work or something. He roofed houses. That was the last thought I managed before I fell asleep again.

When I woke up again, the lights from the curtains were blinding. Groaning, I rolled over and hid my face in the blankets. I heard Johnny laugh a little under his breath, and peeked over to find him sitting up against the wall, stretching. "Hey," I grunted back at him. He was grinning.

In my head, I went through the plan for what was going to happen next. Sure, Dallas had been nice and let me stay the night, but it wasn't gonna be a regular thing. I barely knew where I was, and besides, I had to go to school, and I had a feeling this place was kind of far. Without any other options, I'd have to go back to my uncle's. Sighing at the thought, I closed my eyes again, head resting on the blankets, my eyes closed as the sun shone in through the window. "Time is it?" I wondered.

"About ten-thirty." That was longer than I usually slept. Apart from the gauze around my wrist, I actually felt pretty okay. Well-rested. My ribs were kind of sore, and I wondered if my uncle had broken any or if they were just bruised. My face felt kind of tight too, and I had a feeling something was swollen or bruised or something.

I was going to have to be more careful. I'd gotten comfortable…he'd left me alone for so long, I'd started to forget. I swore then that it wouldn't happen again. I'd be careful. I'd stay out of the house more. I'd sleep outside, despite how cold it was, and it was only going to get colder. Or I could keep a window open so I could get out faster…bar the door. Hoard food. Something. I'd have to think of something. Because I remembered kneeling in front of the bathtub with a knife in my hand and thinking that was my only choice, and I couldn't stand the thought of going back to that. I didn't want to die. Not really. I just had to survive until I graduate high school and I could be free. Get a scholarship, like Darrel had said, and go off to college. Far away. Maybe in California or New York or somewhere big and full of people where he couldn't find me ever again.

"You okay?" Johnny sounded more concerned, and I felt his voice getting closer. I nodded into the blanket, stretching a little before turning to face him.

"Yeah. Where did Dallas go?"

"Don't know…" He looked around the room as if we'd find a clue there, then shrugged. "Maybe he had something to do."

I hated to leave. Sure, a bar wasn't my favorite place in the world to hang out. Alcohol made me nervous, especially when a bunch of people drinking it got together. But surely they wouldn't be drinking this early. Heck, I doubted a bar would even be open this early. Either way, I hated to leave, but I couldn't stay here. Not when Dallas wasn't even there and Johnny would probably be leaving soon. My uncle would be home, but I could take my time walking, sneak in through my window, get some clothes and maybe a book…I had a book from the school library I could read. I could hang out at the city library. Anything to keep me out of that house.

They were the kinds of plans I'd been making since I'd moved in with my grandfather. Stay out of the way. Stay small and quiet. Don't draw attention. It would be fine. My uncle couldn't hit me if he never saw me. And he probably wouldn't come find me if he was busy with work and I stayed out of his way. I knew that wasn't strictly true, but I didn't want to think too much about it. I wanted to survive the next few years and get out. I was a sophomore now…that meant only two more years to go and I could get out.

I pushed myself up, rubbing my eyes and yawning. Johnny was sitting up against the wall, yawning into his hand, and I gave him a half grin, pushing the blankets off and pulling myself to my feet. Johnny stood as well, grabbing the blankets he'd been sleeping on and folding them. I did the same, shaking them out and folding them, and then we put them back in the closet. "You stay over here a lot?" I wondered, the question barely a murmur.

Johnny didn't seem offended at the question, just nodded. "Yeah, usually on the weekends. It's kind of far from school." He shrugged. "Plus it's real loud and its' hard to do homework during the week." I wondered if his parents cared though, about him staying over at Dallas's place. "Sometimes I sleep in the lot, or over at the Curtis's during the week if my parents are fighting."

"They don't care?" I asked softly.

"My parents? Nope."

"No, I mean…Darrel and Sodapop." He gave me a look.

"Oh, no." He chuckled a little. "They always ask me to come over if I need to. Steve too. They won't mind if you come over."

"I can't," I told him simply, shrugging.

"Look, I know…"

"It's fine." I cut him off, shaking my head and heading toward the door. "I need to get going. I'll see you around…"

"Ponyboy, wait…" As I was reaching for the door, the handle turned, and I jumped back, jerking my hand away and stepping out of the way while Dallas Winston and Darrel Curtis headed through the door, Dallas lifting an eyebrow.

"Hey, kid. Where you running off to?"

"I gotta go," I told him simply, but Dallas didn't move, just stood in the doorway, arms crossed. In Darrel's hands was a bag that I assumed was full of food. But I'd already slept on Dallas's floor and I was already the group charity case and…shit. I sighed, crossing my arms and stepping away from him, hating how trapped I felt. He said he was my friend. He'd told me that I was their buddy…that I was a part of the gang. How the hell was I supposed to act? What if he wouldn't let me leave?

"Hey, Ponyboy," Darrel spoke up, nudging Dallas out of the way. Dallas stepped away, moving over to the bed and lighting a cigarette. Darry opened the bag he was holding, pulling out a smaller bag that he handed to Johnny and one that he gave me. I took it hesitantly, looking between me and Johnny. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just…uh…I need to go."

"Oh." He hadn't looked down at my wrist yet, but I figured he knew about it. I fought not to hide that arm behind my back and just kept it behind the bag I was holding. "You wanna eat first. We brought pancakes." I gave Johnny a look, trying to ask without asking if this was normal, but he was already eating. I hadn't eaten since the popcorn the night before, so I nodded a little.

"Um…thanks." I murmured, and Darrel went to sit on the bed with Dallas, turning his head and wrinkling his nose when Dallas blew smoke from his cigarette into the room. Johnny was sitting on the floor and I joined him with my food, feeling awkward and out of place but trying to act like I belonged…like Johnny. Thankfully, Darrel started a conversation with Dallas about sports…maybe football. I didn't care about football, not really. My uncle watched it on TV sometimes, and I instinctively distrusted anything he liked. So I tuned out.

Once the food was gone, Dallas jumped to his feet, reaching down and grabbing Johnny's now empty bag, then grabbed mine too. I watched him throw them into a trash can, then jerk his head at Johnny. "We're gonna head out, man. I'll see you later." He reached out a hand, shaking Darrel's, and before I could finish swallowing the last bite of my food, him and Johnny were out the door, Johnny throwing a glance over his shoulder at me. I froze where I was sitting on the floor, wondering what the hell was going on as Darrel stayed on the bed. What was going on? Why…why had he come over? What did he want?

After an awkward moment of silence, he stood up, holding out a hand that I took after a second's hesitation, letting him pull me to my feet and murmuring a 'thanks' under my breath. "I guess I'd better go," I mumbled, starting toward the door, but he put a hand on my shoulder, making me freeze in my tracks. I was about 95% sure he wouldn't hurt me. I mean…he'd had plenty of chances and he'd helped me pay for my groceries and he seemed like a great guy. So why was I so afraid to be in a room alone with him? Of course, I knew why. I just hated it about myself.

"Hey, before you can go, you think we can talk for a second?"

I didn't know how to say no, so I nodded, and he gestured for me to sit on the bed. I did, wishing I could jump out the window. It wouldn't hurt too bad. We weren't even that far off the ground. Two stories? That was nothing.

Darrel had his hands clasped where he sat on a chair across from me, jaw tight as he looked around the room for a moment. I got the feeling he didn't like this place much. If he hated it here so much, I wondered why he'd even come.

He looked upset and I wanted to run…but I kept hearing what Dallas had said. I was their friend…their buddy. They cared about me. Darrel Curtis wasn't gonna stand by and let my uncle hurt me. What did I have to lose from testing that? From finally learning whether or not that was true. "Why'd he hit you?" He finally asked, his voice soft. I felt my stomach drop. I didn't want to talk about this. Not with Darrel and not with anyone else. Even if I was their friend now. Did friends talk about this? What the hell did I know about friends?

"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping he'd fall for it. He gave me a look, telling me he wasn't buying it. That didn't matter, I told myself. I didn't owe him an explanation. I wanted out of that room, through the window or the door or a hole in the wall, I didn't care.

"Hey." He murmured, reaching out and gripping my shoulder, his hand gentle. "It's okay, kiddo. I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." I insisted. He shook his head and gestured toward my wrist that I gripped with my other hand, not wanting to talk about that.

"You ain't gotta lie to me. You're our friend, Pony." Pony. Had anyone called me that before I came to this town? I gotta say, I didn't hate it.

"What does it matter?" I deflected, shrugging. He sighed, running a hand over his face, then looking me head on. For a second, he didn't say anything, like he was working his way up to something. I didn't know if I wanted to hear it, but I had no idea how to tell him that, so I just waited, fighting to hold his gaze. Finally, he sighed, leaning in.

"Look, you know Sodapop cares about you. Hell, we all do. You're our friend now. One of the gang. So we're gonna look after you, same as we look after Johnny."

"But my uncle…look, that's nice of you guys and all, but I don't need to be your charity case." He grimaced, but I went on. "My uncle can screw things up for you guys…"

"Don't worry about us, kiddo. We got lots of friends…Tim ain't the worst of the guys Dallas runs around with." I wasn't sure I believed him. Before, he'd been worried about my uncle calling the cops on them and having Sodapop taken away. "Look, we'll have Tim have another chat with him. Don't worry. So…just talk to me, okay? Why'd he hit you?" I sighed, thinking about deflecting again, but…he already knew that my uncle had hit me. He apparently knew what I'd tried to do. Why not just tell him? If he was my friend…maybe he could help.

"He needed an excuse…it had been almost a month," I admitted, fighting to keep my voice level. "Guess he got bored." I shrugged, hoping I could get through this conversation without crying. "Said it was because of the money I took for groceries."

"Even though you got the beer?" He asked.

"Even though I got the beer," I confirmed.

"You hurt anywhere else?" He asked, and I knew what he meant.

"I think he broke a couple of my ribs," I told him, shrugging a little. "Kicked me awful hard."

"And that?" He asked, reaching a hand up and brushing his fingers over my cheek lightly. I assumed it was pretty bruised.

"It's fine. Doesn't hurt much." He nodded.

"Alright, kiddo. How about you come to our place? Me and Sodapop are both off today. We were gonna grill out before it gets too cold." I felt like it was already too cold, but who was I to argue? "You can sleep over if you want. We might play football or something. You ever played?"

"Um…no." I shook my head. "Not really."

"It's fun." He gave me a once over, frowning a little. "Or maybe you should just watch. Don't want to aggravate those ribs. We've got ice if you need it. Aspirin too. What do you say?"

I had to admit, it sounded kind of…nice. Spending the night somewhere where no one was going to hit me two nights in a row. Getting to know the people who were apparently my new friends. "Hey, you don't have to…if you don't want to." Darrel assured me, smiling little and leaning back. "You can come over any time, though. I just…I wanted you to know that."

Nodding, I watched him stand, giving a half smile when he dropped a hand on my shoulder. It didn't sound so bad. Maybe…maybe I could let myself trust them. Maybe…maybe I could just give it a try. And if I hated it, I could always run again. Plan B…I'd sneak into my room and sleep outside. It would be fine. It wasn't like I hadn't done it before.

"Hey, um…Darrel?" He paused by the door, leaning a hand on the doorjamb and waiting. I stood, hands shoved in my pockets. "You…you think I could get a ride?" He grinned then, reaching out and throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"Sure, kiddo. Come on. And my friends call me Darry, okay? Darrel was my dad." As he led me down the stairs and out of that bar, I let myself wonder if this was what having a big brother felt like.


	19. Cook Out

**Cook Out**

I sat next to Darrel Curtis…Darry, hands clenched in my lap as he drove toward his house. We passed the bars and run-down buildings, the roads practically traffic-free. I wondered if Darry had to work, or if he had weekends off. I tried to keep track, but it was hard just judging from seeing the truck in the driveway. I'd been avoiding that house for the most part, so I didn't exactly have any of their schedules memorized. Between track and being bumped up a grade and trying to avoid my insane uncle, I was kind of busy. Speaking of which, there was some reading that I really needed to get done for history, but all my stuff was at my uncle's.

It wasn't too far to their place, and it was a lot faster in the truck than going by foot. Darry played the radio softly in the background, and I stared out the window as we drove, wondering if I was supposed to make conversation. But what was I supposed to say? Ask him how work was? He'd probably think I was stupid, so I kept my mouth shut, waiting for him to pull in the driveway. My uncle's car was in the driveway but Darry didn't even spare it a second glance.

I stayed at his side as we headed inside, trying to subtly hide beside him, using him to block my view of the house. He must have noticed, though, because he put a hand on my back and urged me forward, angling himself away from my uncle's house and hiding me from view. I doubted my uncle was even up yet, but even if he was, I had a feeling that maybe these guys would fight him for me. Still, if it came to that, he could call the cops and I'd still be in trouble. If he called the cops on them, Darry could lose Soda and then I'd lose the only friends I'd ever had, and I barely even knew them. I didn't want to lose the chance to get to know them. Maybe I could feel a little normal for a while.

Steve and Sodapop were both sprawled out on the sofa, Steve's cap over his eyes as he watched TV, Sodapop yawning and playing with a switchblade. Both looked up when I entered and I felt my stomach drop. Surely they knew…if Darry knew, they all had to. There was a clatter from the kitchen, and Two-Bit peeked around the corner, eyes widening when he saw me. The door shutting behind Darry got everyone's attention, and Sodapop and Steve both looked up at me, mouths dropping open.

Darry must have given them some kind of look because Steve went back to watching TV with a 'Hey kid' thrown over his shoulder. Sodapop took a little longer to make himself stop staring, smiling up at me and nodding.

"Hey, Ponyboy. How's it going, kiddo?"

"Uh…good. Fine." I told him, moving aside as Darry slipped by, heading into the kitchen.

"Sit down." He offered, and I watched Darry nudge Two-Bit out of the way, both of them disappearing into the kitchen. Hesitating for a second, I did, sitting beside Sodapop on the sofa, and he draped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing. "Haven't seen you in a couple of days. What have you been up to?"

"Just…school. Track." I shrugged, realizing it sounded pretty pathetic. I didn't exactly have a very interesting life. "What about you?"

"Eh, just work." He glanced up, holding a hand out, and I looked up just in time to see Darry toss him an ice pack that he handed to me, eyebrows lifted. "What? What's this for?"

I put it against my side, leaning back and shrugging. "Nothing…just sore." Maybe no one had told them. I mean, I still have the bandage on my wrist, but that didn't mean they knew. Maybe just Darry knew…that's what I told myself. No one knew. No one but Darry knew I was so pathetic that I tried to kill myself. It was humiliating. I mean, yeah, I'd told Johnny, but Johnny was like me. His parents were awful and I knew he was miserable with them. If anyone could understand, it was him. He was tough, like the rest of the guys, but maybe not quite as tough. More…approachable. No…Sodapop was approachable too. So was Two-Bit…but Johnny was easier.

"Yeah? You okay?" Sodapop asked. I nodded, waving him off and trying to pretend it didn't hurt to move, but the illusion was kind of shattered when Darry brought me a couple of Aspirin. Thanking him, I swallowed them dry, then took the glass of water he handed me. Sodapop was giving his brother a look I couldn't decipher, but quickly dropped it as soon as I handed him the glass back with a murmured thanks.

Two-Bit emerged from the kitchen, beer in hand, and dropped onto the floor, sitting cross-legged by the coffee table. "Hey, Pone. How's it hanging, kid?" He asked, grinning, but something was off. I hadn't been imagining it, then. His eyes were dark, and he seemed to be struggling to maintain eye contact. His jaw was tight, lips in a tight smile. He knew. He knew what I'd done. I wanted to leave, which was stupid. Dallas knew. So did Johnny. Darry. So what if Two-Bit knew? And was…mad? Upset with me? I wasn't sure which.

"Um…fine." I answered, never sure how to answer that question, which always amused him. "How are you?" It was the only way I knew how to get the focus off of me.

"I'm just fine, kiddo." He told me quietly, looking uncomfortable as he tried to smile, and his eyes finally dropped to my arm…to the white bandage wrapped around my wrist. I had to fight not to yank it out of sight and hide it behind my back, but that they would notice. So I just sat beside Sodapop, all of us in almost complete silence other than the TV until Darry tossed a football into the room, which Steve caught, barely managing to keep it from hitting him in the face.

"Who wants to play?" He asked. I had to admit, I was grateful. At least if they were playing football, the others would have something to focus on. Taking Sodapop's hand and letting him pull me up, I followed them out to the backyard, sitting on the porch steps while they all faced off. Sodapop asked if I wanted to play, but I waved him off, telling him I'd just watch. It was almost fun…almost relaxing. I kept glancing at the yard next door, though, looking out for him. I was always waiting for him to appear…waiting for him to spot me and decide to come after me again.

They played for a while, and somehow it wasn't awkward, hanging out with them even when I wasn't playing. Dallas and Johnny didn't show up until Darry broke out the grill as though Dallas had some kind of sense for when there was free food. Dallas ruffled my hair as he passed, joining Darry beside the grill and starting a conversation that I couldn't hear.

Sodapop came outside after he'd washed up and changed clothes since his old ones had been covered in mud. Dropping onto the steps beside me, he offered me a cigarette that I took, thanking him when he lit it for me. Darry sent us a vaguely disapproving look, but since he didn't say anything, I enjoyed the first cigarette I'd had in a little while. It was probably best that I didn't smoke so much since I was running track now, but I figured one wouldn't hurt.

"You ever play football?" Sodapop wondered.

"Not really." I shrugged. "More of a track person."

"Yeah, I know. You're pretty fast, huh?" He grinned, elbowing me gently, careful of my ribs. I managed not to flinch. "When's your first meet?"

"Uh…next month, I think." I couldn't remember the date, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Practice been going okay?"

"Yeah."

"You the fastest?" I had to grin a little.

"No…not the fastest."

He chuckled. "One of them, then. Bet you'll get scholarships and everything."

"I've got two more years before I need to worry about that." He shrugged.

"Yeah, but it can't hurt to get started early. What do you wanna do?"

It was my turn to shrug. "I have no idea," I told him honestly. It was a question my teachers liked to ask when they realized I was pretty good at school, but it wasn't something I'd ever thought about.

"You want to go to college though, right?"

"Yeah. I guess. I figured I'd study English or something."

"Maybe teach? Hell, maybe if I'd have more teachers worth a crap, I would have stayed in school." He chuckled. "Then again, maybe not. Never could sit still for long enough."

"I like school alright." I offered. "Gets me out of the house." He nodded at that, looking solemn all of a sudden. "It was something I was good at."

"You're good at it alright. Never knew anybody that skipped a grade, not even Darry." He put an arm around my shoulder, squeezing. For the first time, I didn't flinch. It felt almost nice…almost natural. Like having a family.

"It ain't no big deal." I told him, trying to get the attention off of me. "I probably won't even be able to go to college."

"Yeah you will." He said it with no hint of indecision, and I felt my chest get a little tight. He thought I'd go to college. Maybe if he thought I would be able to get out of here…go to college, make something of myself…maybe it was possible. Maybe I'd be okay.

We ate at the dining room table, all of us squeezed together. I wondered if it weren't for me, they'd be eating outside or something. I had to look out for my uncle though, and they all knew that, so we ate inside, burgers and baked potatoes. Afterward, Sodapop passed out slices of chocolate cake and glasses of milk. I managed to eat all of it, just barely stopping myself from eating the chocolate crumbs on my plate. Sodapop told me it was his mom's recipe.

"Yeah, he cooks them every few days." Steve put in, finishing his own cake, getting chocolate icing on his nose that no one told him about.

"Wouldn't have to cook them so often if you didn't eat them every day." Sodapop joked, kicking his friend under the table, then standing to grab the dishes. Remembering the concept of manners, I jumped up with my own dishes, bringing them over to the sink. Soda waved me off, telling me that he could take care of it, and Darry urged me to join them in the living room where we all sat down to play poker, the rules of which I barely remembered but tried to get the hang of. When Sodapop joined us once more, he sat at my side, reminding me of the rules and helping me win a round. We weren't betting with money, but Dally still rolled his eyes, throwing his cards down and grumbling without any heat that we were cheaters. I lost the second and third round, though, which placated him. I doubt he was ever upset in the first place, but it seemed to be best to stay on his good side.

Dallas and Johnny split around three, Steve heading out with them. I expected Sodapop to go too, and I planned on going home or something, but Sodapop apparently had other plans. "Hey, Pony, wanna go to the library?" I blinked at him, not sure why he was asking that, but I figured it couldn't hurt. So I agreed, and Sodapop asked if he could use the truck. Darry tossed him the keys, and that's how I found myself alone with him.

As we left, Two-Bit followed me with his eyes. He'd been staring all day, and I'd been doing my best to ignore him. He couldn't seem to help himself, eyes drawn to the bandage on my arm. All day, I'd waited for him to ask about it. But he just stared. He looked scared. Worried. Hurt. But I couldn't figure out why. I mean, I was fine. I hadn't cut too deep, and Dallas had cleaned it up and bandaged it and I was fine. I wasn't going to do it again. Was that what he was worried about? Or did he just think I was crazy? I wouldn't blame him. Thinking back on it, I felt kind of crazy.

I sort of expected Sodapop to bring up the gauze wrapped around my arm. Or my uncle. Or…something. If anyone was going to have a heart to heart with me about this, it would be him. But Sodapop kept quiet, just driving me to the library, both of us heading inside and looking around for a while, then he checked out the books for me, and then we headed back. Instead, he talked to me about the DX and told stories about his own time in school, and for the rest of the day I just read or hung out with him. Two-Bit had taken off, and I wondered if he just didn't want to be around with me. I didn't ask, though. I couldn't bring myself to.

When it got late and I started to get up and leave, sure I'd be able to sleep in the lot, Darry insisted I stay for dinner, and even though I hadn't really done anything all day, except for go to the library, I found that I was pretty hungry, so I accepted when it was apparent they weren't going to take no for an answer. I guess I could have run off, but they were my friends. Right? They were my friends. Friends hung out together. At least, that's what they did on TV. So I offered to help cook, but Darry waved me off and made dinner on his own, Sodapop staying with me in the living room. That's when it clicked. They weren't leaving me alone. Ever. Even when I went to the bathroom, I could feel the other room go silent, and I realized that they were listening…making sure I came out of the bathroom afterward. They were making sure I didn't kill myself.

As soon as I realized it, I tried to push the thoughts away. They were my friends. They were worried about me. That's what friends did…probably. They didn't want me to hurt myself. It was embarrassing to have them watching after me like that, but I didn't know how to say it. Or how to ask them to stop. So I tried to ignore it all through dinner, and this time, Sodapop let me help with the dishes. When those were done, Darry told us that he was meeting some friends and that he'd be back later. He almost seemed hesitant to go, giving Sodapop a look I didn't understand, but he did go after ruffling my hair and telling us he'd be back before midnight.

When he was gone, I turned to Sodapop. "He has other friends?" I meant it as a joke and hoped he didn't take offense. I didn't usually try to joke around with other people, but maybe it would be safe to try it with Sodapop.

I was right. He chuckled, bumping his shoulder against mine from where he sat on the sofa beside me. "Yeah. Guys he went to school with. They go skiing sometimes, or they used to when our parents were alive. Ever tried it?"

I snorted. "Uh, no."

"He let me tag along once. Nearly broke my leg, and I was cold all weekend, so I never tried again." I grinned. "Nowadays they mostly just go to the gym or meet up for dinner or something. Sometimes they come over, but most of 'em live on the other side of town."

"Are they…socs?" I asked, the word feeling weird in my mouth.

"Eh. Kind of. They've got more money than us. Darry could be one of them, if it weren't for us, you know?" I nodded, even though I didn't. Not really. He explained anyway. "If he weren't always hanging around us, and if he didn't have to work so much to support me now…" He sighed, his voice a little bitter. "He could have gone to college. He was saving up…"

"Think he could still go?" He perked up then, grinning at me, easy humor restored.

"Sure. Soon as I'm 18, he can start saving up again. I make decent money…maybe I can get a place with Steve or something. He don't need me to pay the bills, but my money helps. Guess we can sell the house or something." I nodded, not liking the idea for some reason. It was ridiculous. I had no connection to this house. This wasn't my home. Still…it seemed like it, in a weird way. I shook that thought away, looking again at the clock. I didn't want to seem rude, but it was getting late.

"Um, so…it was cool of you guys to uh…let me stay for dinner and everything. Thanks." "I mean…I really appreciate it, Sodapop."

"Sure thing, Pone." He told me, not really glancing up from the TV.

"But, uh…I mean…" I hated myself. Hated that I couldn't speak. Hated that I couldn't get my point across without stuttering. Even with my friends. Sodapop was my friend. When I hesitated, he turned to me, looking concerned. "I really ought to go." He crossed his arms, glancing between me and the TV, then stood, reaching out a hand.

"Hey, come with me for a second, would ya?" He asked.

I wanted to say no. I don't know why…I wanted to leave and close the door behind me…because it would be safer, I guess. If you don't get too close, people can't hurt you as much. But I followed, wondering if they were going to let me leave. Did they think I'd try it again? Ignoring that thought, I let Sodapop lead me into a bedroom. It was mostly empty, just a dresser and a pretty big bed, covered with a dark blue comforter and white pillows. The thick blue curtains were covering the window and the top of the dresser was completely empty. The only thing on the wall was a painting of a mountain hung over the bed. It looked like it had been completely stripped of all personal belongings. Or maybe it was just a guest room.

"We've got a spare room." He told me, speaking suddenly. "Spare bed, spare dresser, spare closet." He was grinning a little, but his eyes were serious.

"I…I got a room. At home." I told him softly, and he nodded, jaw tight.

"I know."

"I don't need…I mean…I'm fine. It's…it's fine. I can sleep…he'll leave me alone for a while and it's fine and…"

"You tried to kill yourself." I flinched at the abrupt words, turning to face him in surprise. He had a hand over his mouth like he was trying to keep the words in, and walked over to the bed, sitting down. Not liking the feeling of towering over him, I sat down too, a few feet away from him. There it was, out in the open. I wanted him to take it back…to hide it away. I didn't want to talk about this. Ever. "You…Dally told us." Then he turned to look at my wrist, teeth clenched in a grimace. "You tried to kill yourself. Alone. In your bathroom."

"It wasn't too deep." I argued softly, knowing I didn't have a leg to stand on. My throat was closing up and I felt my eyes heating up. I didn't want to talk about this. Never.

"I don't fu…I don't care how deep it was. I don't…shit." He whispered under his breath, wiping his eyes which were surprisingly bright. "It doesn't matter. Okay? It doesn't matter how deep it was because you wanted to die."

I couldn't argue. "I don't anymore." My voice was weak but I hoped he didn't notice.

"Yeah, not now. But what about the next time you're alone with that guy, huh?" I wanted to tell him that it wouldn't matter…that he'd probably kill me before I ever made it to college no matter what I did…the pain of that weighed on my chest all of a sudden, and I clamped a hand over my mouth. "Pony?" He asked, and I shook my head, feeling it crash down on me.

"I'm not going to make it anyway." I whispered, closing my eyes. Suddenly he was closer, an arm draping over my shoulders and pulling me in tight.

"Don't." He urged softly, sounding almost panicked. "Don't talk like that."

"I'm not." I insisted, my own voice dull. "He'll kill me, Sodapop. I'm not going to make it to college or get scholarships or…"

"Stop." He shook me a little. "Just…stop, okay?" I sighed, shrugging and dropping my head into my hands. He was right. I didn't need to dump all this on Sodapop Curtis. He'd been real nice and he didn't need to be bothered by it. It wasn't Sodapop's problem. Or Darry's. They were my friends, though. I wanted to lie down…the changes in my emotions were exhausting. Sometimes I let the hope win, just for a few minutes, and it felt so good. But then reality would come crashing back down. "He's not going to kill you."

"You don't know him." I told him, feeling absolutely drained.

"Yeah, I do. I mean…I know guys like him. And I'm not going to let him hurt you."

"You can't stop him."

"He can't kill you if he can't find you." He reminded me, and I snorted.

"That's my home. He's my legal guardian."

"Yeah, well we've got a guest room. You think he'll report it if you stay away for a while?"

I stared at the floor. He wasn't wrong. My uncle didn't care if I stayed away for long periods of time. It was absolutely idiotic that the thought hurt just a bit. I knew he hated me. Why should proof of that hurt? "If he knows I'm staying here…"  
"Yeah, I know…he'll come after us. That's fine. We'll take care of it."

"You don't get it. He hates me enough…"

"You've told me. I know. He hates you enough to cause trouble, but we aren't going to let him ruin us. Darry won't let that happen." I wished I had that kind of faith in…anyone. "Look, why don't we just start with tonight, huh? Stay the night. Tomorrow's Sunday. Maybe you can sneak next door and get your backpack. Get your books and homework, a change of clothes." I was quiet for a long time, and Sodapop seemed to take it as a yes. "I just…this is your room."

I blinked at that, looking up at him in surprise, and his arm tightened around me. "My…my room?"

"Yeah. It's your room. Stay here whenever you want, no questions. Promise. We've got a first aid kit in the bathroom. Food in the kitchen."

"You…what about Darry?"

"It was partly his idea. After what happened…" He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Look, to me…you're our buddy. You get that, right?"

"That's what Dallas said." I told him slowly.  
"Well, he's right. You're our buddy. And…to me…you're like my little brother. I want to make sure you have a place to stay. So…that's what I'm giving you. What we're giving you...me and Darry. A place to stay. A home. A real one. So you don't ever have to sleep in the lot or hide out in the library or…" He ruffled my hair. "You're family. Like it or not. Get it?"

I didn't. I didn't understand why the heck this guy had decided that he wanted me as his buddy or his friend or his family. I didn't get any of it. But I just nodded, rubbing at my eyes and trying not to start bawling like a baby. He stayed beside me, pretending not to notice when a tear dripped down my face, and just holding me at his side. After a few minutes, I exhaled, letting my shoulders relax as I leaned against him, and the side of his head rested against the top of mine. "Hey, Sodapop?" I murmured.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Was this your Mom and Dad's room?" He was quiet for a long time, and for a minute, I was worried I'd offended him. But then he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. But it's yours now."


	20. Payback

**Payback**

It was freezing outside, and I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders, the tip of my cigarette glowing but doing absolutely nothing to warm me up. The wind cut through my jeans and I shivered a little, looking around at the nearly empty bleachers. My backpack full of homework I had no intention of doing sat beside me, with most of my textbooks left in my locker. Maybe I'd cheat of Johnny. He was pretty good at letting me look at his work when I thought to ask.

The kid came around the bed, going from fourth to third place as he passed a soc who tried to overtake him again, but Pony was faster, moving into second as they crossed the finish line. The coach blew his whistle once the rest of the guys on the team crossed the line, holding up his stopwatch and reading off times that made little sense to me. Ponyboy glanced over from where he stood near the back of the group of guys and caught my eye. I gave him a grin, waving lazily, and he gave me a hesitant smile back, lifting his hand a little before turning back to his coach.

His wrist was still bandaged. I had no idea what he'd told people…if anyone even asked. The cut was deep…not that I'd seen it. Dallas had told me. Not deep enough to be fatal but deep enough to be dangerous. I stared down at the ground for a minute, hands clenching and unclenching, then pulled the cigarette out of my mouth, flicking some ashes only the dirt at my feet.

Apparently the coach wanted them to run again, so some of them, including Ponyboy, got in line, crouching as they prepared to run, while the other half of the team started doing pushups. I watched Pony take off, immediately jumping into first, and I put the cigarette back in my mouth. He was good. A fast runner. A good student. And he was suicidal.

Just the word made my stomach clench into a knot and I swallowed hard, ashing the cigarette and wiping a hand down my face. Suicidal. He'd tried to kill himself. We did stupid, dangerous stuff all the time. Drag racing. Horse racing. Rumbles. Gambling at Buck's. Literally anything involving Tim. But the kid had taken a knife and cut his own wrist. And I had no freaking idea what to say to him. He lived with someone that beat on him, just like Johnny, but as far as I knew, Johnny had never tried to hurt himself.

Then again, I had no idea what this kid's life had been like before he'd lived here. He hadn't had friends. I knew that much. No friends. No family. Nothing. He'd been alone in every way, and that could drive someone crazy, I guess. I didn't want to think about what my life would be without my family and the guys. This kid had grown up with it.

Sodapop had mentioned that his mom had killed herself too. So he'd lived with his mom first, who had been so depressed that she'd killed herself, then his grandfather who sounded like a real jerk, and now his uncle, who I'd like to take a baseball bat to. That asshole hated Ponyboy, but he wanted him around to beat on. I'd like to meet him in a dark alley somewhere. I still wasn't sure I wouldn't. I'd just have to make sure he didn't know it was me. Darry might be pissed, but maybe he wouldn't find out.

The kid was still winning, arms pumping as he pulled even further ahead. I hadn't really seen much of him in a few days. On Saturday, he'd spend the day at the Curtis's place, and he'd even slept over, disappearing on Sunday for most of the day before reappearing with Dallas and Johnny, all of us eating together in the living room while watching TV. That night, he'd slept at the house again, waking before anyone else and disappearing again. Who knew what that kid got up to when he wasn't with us, but he was at school Monday morning. Apparently he'd walked. Steve had reminded him that he could always catch a ride with us, but he'd just looked away and told us that he'd had something to do, and no one had pressed him.

To be honest, I wasn't sure how to talk to the kid anymore, so I hadn't put a ton of effort into it. Mostly, I'd spent the last two days with Kathy or hanging out at the DX with Steve and Sodapop. Meanwhile, Ponyboy had been spending a lot of time with Johnny, talking softly and doing homework in the library during lunch instead of eating, even though Steve and I offered to buy them lunch. I think Pony preferred the library, and Johnny didn't mind keeping him company.

I'd cornered Dallas the day after, wondering if I'd ever seen him so serious. "What the hell happened?" I'd asked, my voice low even though we were alone outside, both of us smoking.

"Didn't Darry tell you?" He'd asked, looking bored, but I knew he was worried. He liked the kid, same as the rest of us.

"He told me the kid cut his wrist."

"Yeah…" He'd sighed, throwing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. "I found him in the bathroom."

"Shit, Dallas."

"Yeah. I thought he was dead, man. The way he was laying there…" Dallas grimaced, shaking his head. "It wasn't deep enough to kill him."

"You think he'll try again?"

"Yeah, maybe." He never was one to sugarcoat things. "He's depressed or something. I don't know, man. I ain't a doctor or nothing. But if he tried once…Darry wants to keep an eye on him, and Sodapop wants him to stay with them for a while, but we can't exactly tie him up or nothing." He'd shrugged.

Depressed. It was a word I heard about guys that came back from the war sometimes…the ones that came back missing limbs or with their brains all mixed up. This kid, thought…what the hell had he been through? I wished I was like Sodapop and could ask him…could be comforting and nice and help the kid. But Sodapop was better at that. I didn't know what to say. How to stay something without sounding like a jerk or something.

What did I say? Why? What made you want to put a knife to your own wrist? Why would you want to end your own life when you've got stuff to live for? And he did. He was good at school…had skipped a grade. And he did good on tests and did his homework and read lots of books. Plus he was good at track, so he'd probably get scholarships and stuff. Plus he had us as his friends now, no matter if he believed it or not. Surely he believed it now. Darry and Sodapop were giving him a place to stay and I was probably gonna beat the shit out of his uncle and he and Johnny were getting to be pretty good friends. Dallas looked after him, and so did Steve. Things were looking up for the kid.

On the track, the guys switched places once Ponyboy crossed the finish line in first place, the group that had been running doing the pushups and sit ups while the other guys took their places on the track. I'd been somewhat avoiding the kid for the last couple of days, but I'd decided to walk the kid over to the DX and get us some sandwiches. He'd probably accept it if Sodapop gave them to us for free. On Monday and Tuesday night, the kid had been sleeping…somewhere. But I planned on convincing him to sleep at the Curtis's place that night. Soda didn't push, but I knew he was worried about the kid sleeping outside or something. And he could always stay at my place too, but I didn't know how to get that across.

When track practice was finally over, I hopped off the bleachers, shouldering my backpack and holding out a cigarette as he approached, grabbing his own backpack. "Hey there, kid. How's it hanging?" I asked, grinning.

"Hey, Two-Bit." He gave me a hesitant smile, eyes not quite meeting mine. He rarely made eye-contact, but this was worse than before…like when we'd first met.

"Everything okay, Pone?" I asked, trying to catch his eye. He nodded, lips tight, and I wondered if he thought I was mad at him or something. I hadn't exactly talked to him much over the last two days, and heaven knew that the kid was insecure.

"Yeah." I didn't believe him but decided to leave it.

"You all done with track practice?"

"Yeah. We can go."

"Cool. Thought I'd head over to the DX. Wanna come?"

He seemed to debate for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. Sure." So we headed to the DX, him walking silently bedside me, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked uncomfortable, slumped over, and I thought of how I got my sister to stop pouting when we fought. Moving closer, I slung my arm over his shoulders, shaking him a little and grinning. All of a sudden, he relaxed, grinning up at me like he was asking a question.

"So what do you think about moving up a grade? Any harder?"

"Uh, yeah….the classes are harder. But I don't mind."

"Good. I guess it's less boring."

"Yeah. Homework takes longer though."

"Wouldn't know. I don't think I've done any homework all year. Usually just copy Johnny's."

"Oh…do you…do you need help?" He asked, his voice so damn genuine that I had to grin, ruffling his hair and making him duck away with a laugh.

"Nah. I'm just too lazy to bother."

"What do you want to do when you graduate?" He wondered as I led him toward the DX, our footsteps in sync.

"Hell, I don't know, kid. Probably work at a shop or something. I don't know enough about cars to work at a garage like Sodapop and Steve. Guess I could go into construction, but I'd probably fall off a ladder or something on the first day." He grinned at that, reminding me of my sister again. I could throw my arm around her and ruffle her hair and she'd be laughing and relaxed no matter how much I'd been getting on her nerves before.

Soda was working the counter when we entered the store, and the first thing he did was grab some sandwiches from the cooler, tossing me one and handing one to the kid. "Hey, Pony. Haven't seen you in a couple of days. Where have you been?" He asked. It was obvious he wanted to tell the kid he'd been worried...to press a little harder, but he was always good at this kind of thing...of giving people space when they needed it.

"Just…busy with homework and track and stuff." He shrugged, muttering a thank you for the sandwich and taking a bite immediately.

"You know you can do homework at our place if you want." Soda offered with a grin, but didn't push any further when Ponyboy didn't answer. I took a bite of mine too, leaning against the counter. "Why don't you head to the house? I get off in a couple of hours. You can sleep over if you want."

Ponyboy swallowed a bite of his sandwich and smiled a little. "Sure. I mean…if you're sure it's okay?"

"Course it is. Remember, you got a room now!"

Ponyboy blinked at him a few times, then gave a real smile. "Yeah. Alright."

"You go ahead if you've got homework, kiddo." I waved him off when he looked ready to go. I knew he probably wanted to get it done since he was an actual good student and he'd been at track practice after school. "I'll probably be around later." Nodding and waving, the kid took off, and I turned to Sodapop.

"What's going on?" Soda asked, looking worried.

"I had an idea…was wondering if you wanted in."

"Yeah? What kind of idea?" Soda was usually up for most of my crazy ideas, but he hesitated a little now. I couldn't blame him. I wasn't giving him much to go on.

"A little payback," I told him, shrugging. He stared at me for a second, a slow smile turning the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice lowered a little even though there was no one in the shop.

"Yeah. Maybe give a certain asshole a taste of his own medicine?" He nodded, fully grinning by then.

"Want to ask the guys to help out?"

"Nah. Thought we'd keep it small. We're gonna need Tim, though."

"Yeah…alright." He glanced out the window at the street where the kid had disappeared. I wondered if he was thinking at that painfully hesitant smile and the bandage wrapped around his wrist…how Dally had told us that at first, he'd thought the kid was dead. He was fourteen and that asshole he lived with was so awful to him that the kid had tried to kill himself.

Since Sodapop didn't get off until 5, and he made an appearance at home to tell Darry that he was meeting me and Tim, I headed over to Tim's side of town straight from the DX, taking the bus to see if he could give me a hand. Luckily, Tim was home, and after I told him what had happened, he was more than happy to help me out. All I'd had to do was mention the bathroom...how Dally had found him. He'd thought the kid was dead. He could have been dead. Tim had gone pretty white, jaw tight as he'd stared at the floor. He liked Ponyboy...I knew he'd help. I just wondered if he wouldn't exact a little revenge of his own.

And that was how Sodapop and I found ourselves waiting outside the mill, leaning against the asshole's pickup truck in the dark. The parking lot wasn't too full, and we were lucky that he'd parked in the back and off to the side, his truck pretty far from all the others clustered around the doors.

We didn't have to wait too long for him to emerge, arms swinging as he made his way to the truck. I leaned against the hood while Soda stayed in the shadows, and I was glad it was winter and the sun went down so early. Apparently Steve had a date with Evie, otherwise, he would have been more interested in what Soda and I were up to. Darry hadn't asked too many questions, and Soda had told me that he was keeping a close eye on Ponyboy, so maybe he wouldn't find out. There wasn't much he could do, but it was always best to keep Darry away from our dumber ideas.

Aaron hesitated when he caught sight of me, but kept walking, arms crossing over his chest as he nodded at me, coming to stop a few feet away. "Do I know you?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow. I wanted to tell him that was my move but decided to keep the chatter to a minimum unless he tried to identify me later.

"Nah, man," I told him, channeling Darry. "You know a friend of mine, though."

"Yeah?"

"Tim Shepherd." He nodded at that.

"Yeah, alright. You wanna get off my truck?" He asked, strolling past me towards the door, and I heard his steps falter when he spotted Sodapop who had changed into a sweatshirt with a hood that he pulled up to hide his face. "What the hell is this?"

"I think Tim told you to leave the kid alone," I told him, coming to stand behind him, and he pressed his back against the driver's side door, eyes darting between us, jaw clenched, hands in fists at his sides.

"Don't know how the hell that's any of his business."

"He likes the kid. He told you to leave the kid alone. You didn't listen." I told him, showing my teeth when I grinned at him. Figuring Tim wouldn't mind us using him as an excuse, I stepped closer. "Tim don't like it when people ignore him, you know? He gets offended. And when Tim gets offended, he gets kind of…testy." Sodapop snorted at the understatement, moving in another step. The guy brought his hands up, eyes on Soda, but I made the first move, pulling my arm back and getting him right in the nose, feeling it crack under my knuckles. It hurt like hell, but I wasn't sure anything had ever felt so good.

Soda moved in next, knuckles crashing into the guy's cheek and busting open. He finally got his fists up and managed a couple of hits, but he was used to beating up on fourteen-year-old kids who couldn't fight back, not mean greasers ready to beat the shit out of somebody who'd hurt their friend. Sodapop ended up with a black eye, I yanked him away, fingers fisted in his jacket, and hit him hard enough to dislocate his jaw. Then, slamming him against the truck, I held him while Sodapop got him in the stomach a couple of times.

Sodapop Curtis wasn't usually mean, but he liked Ponyboy. Liked him enough to invite the kid to stay with them. He was starting to see the kid as his brother. And this was the guy that had hurt the kid he saw as his brother. He'd hurt our family. And he didn't let people hurt our family. So I let him get in a couple of punches before stepping in, hands fisted in his shirt as I pinned him to the truck. "Touch that kid again, and we'll bring more even more friends. You dig?" He coughed, spitting blood in my face, and I pulled him towards me and slammed him against the truck again, grinning when he flinched. I hoped Soda had broken a rib or two. I'd seen how the kid had been walking, real careful of his sides.

"The hell you care about that kid?" I wanted to keep hitting him. Wanted to ask him what the hell made him decide that beating up a fourteen-year-old kid was his favorite hobby. Instead, I pulled out my black-handled switchblade, flicking it open and holding to his neck, grinning when he went real pale. I pressed the tip into his neck right under his chin, remembering the bandage on the kid's wrist…Dallas had thought he was dead.

"Like I said, Tim Shepherd likes him. Hell, he might come pay you a visit next time. So leave him alone. Pretend he don't exist. Ponyboy is officially off limits. Savvy?" He kept glaring so I pushed it a little harder. I wouldn't care much if he died, except the kid would go into foster care, so I didn't push too hard. When blood ran down his neck, he finally gave in, gritting his teeth.

"Yeah, shithead. I read you. Loud and clear." He snarled. Grinning, I took a step back, bringing my knee up and ramming it into his stomach at the last second. He gasped, legs giving out as he hit the pavement, and Sodapop chuckled, giving him one last half-hearted kick as we left.

"We'll be watching." I tossed the promise over my shoulder, hoping it was one I could keep.


	21. Heat Rising

**Heat Rising**

My mom took me to the zoo once. We never had money or nothing, but I remembered her getting out of bed one day when I was really little. It was toward the end, when she almost never got out of bed…just laid down in the dark and watched TV or cried. I understood now…some days I wanted to lay down and stare at the wall. Maybe cry too. Heck, sometimes that feeling stayed with me for weeks. I thought about that day in the bathroom…blood running down my wrist and dripping from my fingertips. Some days, even with a group of guys who obviously wanted me around, I still felt that way.

We got in her car for the first time in what had felt like forever, and then we'd parked in front of the big gate. I remembered that the best. Standing in line to buy tickets. It had been so hot out that I'd started sweating the minute I'd jumped out of the car, reaching out for her hand. She hadn't taken mine, and I'd watched all the other kids walking with their parents, hands reaching up and holding their mom or dad's bigger ones. Parents constantly looking down to make sure their kids were still there, still holding tight. I'd watched older kids hold the hands of their younger brothers and sisters, and I'd wished more than anything that there was an older brother or sister somewhere for me…someone to hold my hand, because my mom never would.

I'd liked the reptile house the best. My mom had led me around the small zoo, moving from one animal to the next, never looking back to make sure I was following. I had panted as I'd tagged along behind her, legs pumping, sweat soaking my shirt. They sold cokes and water but I hadn't dared ask. Not that I could have caught up with her to ask anyway. It had seemed like she didn't want me to follow…like she was trying to get away. Maybe she was. Either way, I'd trotted at her heels like a puppy.

The snakes were my favorite. Then the zebras. For some reason, I'd loved the zebras. I'd stood, climbing up the fence and leaning over the enclosure to watch them. Like horses but striped and wild. I wanted to know if you could ride on them like I'd seen some other kids riding on ponies. They looked the same. Just bigger. I'd stood on the fence until my mom had disappeared into the crowd…no one had asked if I was okay. If I needed help finding my mother. If I was lost. Because I had been. I had been lost, and I'd run around that zoo for what must have been an hour before spotting her, smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke at the monkeys. One of them had had a baby clutching her back, and my mother had turned away from me when I'd called her name, running a hand over her face, then taking a long drag of her cigarette.

The nightmare took me back to that day…but not the part where we'd gone home and she'd gone back to bed. Not the part where I'd poured myself a huge glass of water from the tap and downed the whole thing, or how I'd crawled into my own bed, feeling sick and tired and cranky. The nightmare started with the zebras…watching them graze and walk around the small enclosure, and then turning to find that I was alone. It was a feeling I'd felt plenty of times since…stomach-twisting icy terror that started in my chest and moved outward, through my stomach and my arms, down to my fingers and toes. Paralyzing fear. I'd gotten used to it.

In the nightmare, I turned from the zebras to find her gone. And I let go of the fence, jumping down and then running. Running. Most of the night was spent running, arms pumping, breath coming in panicky gasps and I looked desperately from face to face anxiously searching for the woman that didn't want me in the first place. In my memory, I found her by the monkeys, looking at the mother with her baby. And she looked at me when I finally grabbed for her arm. "I never wanted kids." She said it the same way she said almost everything. Tired. Empty. My mother was always tired.

I didn't find her in the nightmare. And the memory of the zoo turned into the memory of the park a few weeks later, right before the end. It was further away from our house than our usual park. The swings were bigger and there were more things to climb. I'd been having a great time, trying to climb all the way to the top, and then I'd glanced back at the bench where she'd sat down, a novel in hand, but she was gone. In the nightmare, I went straight from the zoo to the park, sitting on the top of the jungle gym and staring at the bench, now empty.

It was the first night I ever spent outside. I slept in the tunnel, suspended in the air, that went from a play fort to a slide. It was still hot out, and in my sleep, I was so hot. I'd been hot, I realized, dreaming that I curled up in a tunnel, listening for monsters or murderers or whatever children were afraid of. I was afraid and I was hot and I was alone. I was so tired of being alone…no one would play with me at school. The other kids avoided me when they were being nice…I read a lot of books alone by the fence of the playground at school. When they weren't being nice, they pointed and laughed. Or threw punches. 'My mom said his mom's a drug addict. Don't ever let him in your house. He'll steal your toys because he doesn't have any. My dad said his dad was a drunk that left because of him. What kind of stupid name is Ponyboy? His mom killed herself.' They'd whisper, no matter where I went. School. The library. The corner store. Adults and teenagers and kids all whispered.

I was hot. Was I still in the tunnel in the playground? Groaning, I turned over, aware suddenly that I was covered up. There was a blanket around me, pulled up to my neck, and I pushed it off, confused. There were no blankets on the playground. I wanted them off. I was so hot. The playground was hot and the zoo was hot and I was alone. Always alone.

Footsteps. Someone was on the playground with me. In the morning, I'd walked home. It had taken almost an hour, and I'd gotten lost several times. No one had asked what I was doing. Where I was going. No one cared. No one cared and I was hot…a door was opening. Was I still on the playground? I couldn't remember. I couldn't see anything anymore…until I was in the bathroom. But I didn't want to see that again. Not again. I couldn't stop walking toward the tub, though.

When I opened the curtain, I felt my blood freeze. It wasn't my mother laying in the tub, water up to her shoulders, the water tinted red. And it wasn't the bathroom from our old apartment. It was my uncle's house…the one in Tulsa. I lived in Tulsa. I lived with my useless, terrible, asshole of an uncle, and I was standing in his bathroom, staring at my own dead body. My wrists were both sliced open, limp at my sides, and my eyes stared up at the ceiling, unseeing. I didn't feel bad…or good. Nothing. No relief. No fear. I was dead. The body in the tub was me and I was dead, but how was I still so hot?

"Woah…Ponyboy, can you hear me?" I watched my own hand reach out, brushing against my corpse's forehead, but somehow I could feel it. A cold hand rested on my head, brushing hair back. "Ponyboy?" I was Ponyboy. A name my mother had given me for reasons she never would tell me. Because she hated me? Because she liked horses? Because there was a picture of a pony on the wall and I was a boy and the hospital staff said she needed to give the thing she was now stuck with a name? "He's burning up, Dar."

Dar. That was a name I knew. Darry. Darrel. Darrel Curtis. My brain seemed to snap to attention and I remembered. I remembered the night a few days ago…it must have been a few days ago. I'd walked to the DX with Two-Bit after track practice, then back to Sodapop's house. I hadn't been feeling too great, but I think I managed to convince them I was fine. I ate dinner with Darry who had come back late and then…homework. I remembered doing homework. Laying down in the bedroom they insisted I could use anytime. A nightmare that hadn't woken anyone, thankfully. Feeling a little warm, but sneaking into their bathroom and taking a few Aspirin, then feeling better.

Sodapop had come home late too, with busted knuckles and hadn't mentioned why…I assumed he'd been in a fight, but didn't feel comfortable asking. Darry hadn't asked neither, just given him a look that Soda had returned with a grin. He could look pretty innocent when he wanted to. Obviously, neither of them had wanted to talk about it in front of me, so I'd kept quiet, just going to bed when it was apparent that they wanted me to sleep over.

The next few days were a blur of spending my lunches in the library at school, talking with Johnny, and sleeping in my own bedroom. I couldn't spend every night with the Curtis's, no matter how much they insisted it was fine. I'd start slow…make sure I wasn't getting on their nerves. Only a few more years and I would be free. They were great, and I'd keep in touch, but no one wanted me around forever. Heck, I was lucky they wanted me around at all.

At school, Steve, Two-Bit, and Johnny found me between classes, and I found myself avoiding them less and less. They were nice guys, pretty easy to talk to, and they were always trying to buy me lunch, which I tried to insist wasn't necessary, but they wouldn't hardly take no for an answer. Even when I went to the library for lunch, they'd bring me a sandwich or something, sneaking it in and shielding me from the librarians and teachers. I didn't go with them to the DX though…didn't feel good enough to walk and pretend to feel fine at the same time. I didn't skip track practice on Friday, though. Didn't want to lose my spot on the team when I'd finally found something I liked to do again. I didn't do too well though. Thankfully, none of the guys were there to watch.

Then…the night before. It must be Saturday, I realized it because the last thing I could remember was coming here after school. The bedroom I slept in at the Curtis's house. Their parents' old room. I'd eaten dinner with them again, only picking at mine, but Darry had been exhausted, practically falling asleep at the table, and Sodapop had been going out with his girlfriend…which he hadn't seemed too excited about. Still, they'd both been kind of distracted and I knew how to lay low, so I'd gone right to bed, earlier than usual, and now…I was hot. "Ponyboy? Open your eyes, kiddo." Someone urged, shaking my shoulder. I groaned, surprising myself with the noise. I'd meant to say something…that I was fine or…something. But my brain felt like mush.

"Soda? What's going on?" Darrel. That was Darrel's voice. Darrel Curtis. Surely he could fix this. Darrel Curtis was the kind of guy who fixed things. Including…whatever was wrong with me. Another hand touched my head and I remembered my corpse in the bathtub. I hadn't done it again! Right?

"I din' do it…" I muttered, forcing my lips to move.

"What?" Darrel asked, the hand still on my forehead. "Didn't…didn't do what, Ponyboy?"

"I'm…I did…the…tub…not real…" I hadn't killed myself. Hadn't even tried again! Why was I in the tub! They'd be so upset...they'd been so upset when I'd tried before.

"He's not making any sense. What's wrong with him, Dar?" Sodapop demanded, and someone shook me again. "Ponyboy? Can you hear me?"

"She left." I muttered, trying and failing to open my eyes. "Where…she?"

"Who, kiddo?" Darrel wondered, his voice going softer. "Who left?" I didn't answer, bringing a hand up to wipe at my face and somehow missing. A hand caught my arm, holding it gently down, fingers brushing against the scar on my wrist. "His fever's too high…get the Aspirin." Darrel ordered. I heard footsteps and tried again to open my eyes, succeeding this time. The room was dark, with light barely making it past the curtains hanging over the window. "Hey, Pony. Who left?" Darrel asked. He was crouched beside my bed, a hand on my head still. "Ponyboy?"

"Mom," I answered, lost somewhere between the present and the playground. Where had she gone? I kept forgetting…kept having to remember it all over again. "Where…she left? Where is she?"

Something passed over Darrel's face…something sad. "Kiddo? You with me?" He asked, and suddenly I remembered again. How had I forgotten in the last few minutes?

"What's going on?" I asked, blinking at the ceiling and trying to focus. "Why…I thought…"

"You're sick, Pone. You should have told us you weren't feeling good." He wasn't getting on me or nothing…his voice was still soft, a hand on my head. He'd never moved it away. Then Sodapop came back with something he put in my mouth, the water cool and delicious. I tried to drink it all but he made me drink slow, pulling the glass away after a few sips.

"Slow, or you'll get sick."

"'m already sick…" I muttered, making him laugh a little.

"More sick." He clarified. "Darry, does he need a doctor?"

"Yeah." Darrel's voice was grim. "We can't take him."

"Darry…"

I heard Darry sigh, and the hand was moved from my head. "Okay…give it a day. We'll give him Aspirin. Give him water. If he's worse tomorrow, we'll…we'll call Tim. See if he can help. Don't worry. We'll figure something out." He sounded so sure…he wasn't even talking to me and I believed him.

Then I was alone again. Kicking and thrashing, I managed to get the blankets off me, and then Sodapop was back, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on my hair. "Hey, kiddo. Take it easy."

"'m hot." I murmured, trying again to push my hair back. He did it for me.

"Yeah? That's probably the fever." He was smiling…I could hear it in his voice. Then he pulled the blankets down around my waist, folding them back and patting my shoulder. "Better?"

"Th'nks."

"How you feeling?"

"Hot." He snorted.

"Yeah, I got that, Pone. Anything else?"

"Just tired." He squeezed my shoulder.

"Yeah? Alright, buddy. Get some sleep. I'll be back with more Aspirin in a few hours."

The next thing I knew, I was in the bathroom again. This time, I was afraid…it was me again. Bleeding but dead, head thrown back. But I hadn't done it! I didn't want to die! I didn't mean to! I screamed that, reaching down and grabbing my own body by the shirt, fists of fabric in my hands as I screamed. "I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to!" Tears dripped down my too-hot face. "I didn't mean to!"

"Woah. Hey, kiddo, come on…it's okay." Someone tried to soothe me, and suddenly I was on the ground again, socs kicking my ribs in and laughing at me. I pulled back and arm and swung, feeling a flash of satisfaction when my fist met something solid and there was a crack. "Shit! Damn it!" The soc was angry and I curled up on the soft surface, wondering if I was in a parking lot or a bathroom or a playground. "Hell of a punch you've got there, kid…" The soc sounded less angry but I didn't uncurl, hating myself for crying…for the tears dripping down my face.

"Hey, easy, kiddo. It's okay." Sodapop. The soc had changed into Sodapop. "It's okay."

"Let me go." I murmured, shoving against the hands…the soc's hands. Or Sodapop's hands. I didn't know anymore. He held me firmly to the bed, keeping my arms from swinging again.

"Easy, Pony. You're sick. It's okay."

"Where's my mom?" I begged, trying again to pull away from the hands, but he didn't budge. I heard him sigh though. Sodapop? Aaron? A kid who'd beat me up at school before I'd fought back…before I'd proven myself dangerous enough to leave alone.

"Kiddo…"

"Mom?" I choked on the word, trying to turn away, but the voice was soft and almost gentle.

"Ponyboy? It's…hey, can you tell me where you are?"

"My…where…my mom…"

"Pony? It's…it's Sodapop. You remember me?" A hand rested on my head, then flinched away before pulling me up. "Here. Swallow this." He murmured, pushing something into my mouth, then making me swallow some water. I did as he asked, then dropped back onto the bed. I was on a bed.

"Soda?" I asked.

"Yeah, Pone." He murmured. "Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Soda?"

"What's up, kiddo?"

"Don't feel good."

"I know."

"My mom's dead." I sobbed a little, which was dumb because she'd been dead for a long time.

"Yeah, I know, kiddo."

"Don't want to be alone." I felt him sit down beside me then, a hand resting on my head again.

"Okay, Pone. I'll stay right here." He carded his hand through my hair, and I was finally able to relax. "Just rest. I'm not going anywhere."

I wasn't alone. I remembered it again. I wasn't alone. I had Sodapop. He was here with me. He wasn't my family. At the zoo, I'd watched younger children with older ones, hands clasped. I'd wanted that. I still wanted that. I reached out, eyes closed and too hot, and smiled when he caught my hand, squeezing it with his own. "It's okay, kiddo. I've gotcha." Praying I wouldn't forget that this time I relaxed onto the pillow again, trying to ignore the heat and sleep.


	22. In Sickness

**In Sickness**

I'd started suspecting that the kid wasn't doing too well a few days ago, the morning after Sodapop had come in late with busted knuckles and a pathetic cover story that he had been out with Two-Bit and they'd been jumped. I knew it was a lie because other than the bloody knuckles, he'd been perfectly fine. Still, I figured it was better that I didn't know. Sodapop usually didn't keep important stuff from me, and if he wanted to go blow off some steam, I guessed I didn't have much room to lecture him about it.

Then I'd caught a glimpse of the asshole next door walking from his house to his truck the next day, and I'd felt my heart stutter a little, cold water filling my veins. No…surely Soda wouldn't…he wouldn't risk something like that. If Aaron called the cops, they wouldn't hesitate to arrest Soda, and then they'd take his little brother away. So I had frozen on his front porch, pretending to stare down at the newspaper while Aaron had climbed into his truck.

He'd glanced up at me once, revealing a swollen black eye, a busted lip, and a face covered in cuts and ugly bruises. Just when I'd been bracing for an attack or a threat or something, the man had just nodded, eyes narrow and cold, but not any angrier than usual. I nodded back, still waiting, but he'd just climbed into his truck, slamming the door and taking off.

Aaron didn't know. He didn't know that it had been Soda. Not that I knew for sure. I wasn't going to ask…he had obviously kept it quiet for some reason. Probably figured I'd be pissed. Not that I wasn't. He'd been reckless, and I understood the urge to hunt down that asshole and make him pay for hurting the kid, but we had to be careful. If it were up to me, I would have broken into his house at night and beat the ever living shit out of him. But my family was at stake. I wondered if this was how our father had felt every time we'd come home with black eyes or something. Had he wanted to hunt down the rich kids who'd jumped me for the first time, or the ones who'd sent Sodapop home crying one day after jumping him after school. I guess he had.

But my focus had gone from Sodapop to the kid in the kitchen who had been quieter than normal…which was saying something. I hadn't seen him all that much over the next few days, and Soda told me that he hadn't neither. When I asked Two-Bit, he'd told me that Ponyboy had been really quiet, mostly spending his lunches in the library, although Two assured us that they were bringing him lunch and stuff in the library and sneaking it past the librarians.

They also told me that he was still going to track practice, but he wasn't spending every night at our house, and I wasn't sure if he was sleeping outside or in his house. I had a feeling Soda and Two-Bit had said something to Aaron about leaving Ponyboy alone, but I just hoped that nothing would be traced back to my brother. I needed to find out when his first big track meet was…Sodapop was probably going to insist on me coming along, not that I minded. The kid was growing on me. He also wasn't looking too good, based on the few times I'd seen him over the last few days.

Then, Sodapop had called me into our parent's old room, which was Ponyboy's new one, despite how few nights he had spent into it. I wanted to tell him that he could spend as many nights as he wanted at the house, but I wasn't sure how to get through to the kid. He was better than he had been but still didn't seem to trust us. I didn't know that I blamed him…the kid didn't have much experience with trusting people. Hopefully, that would change soon.

When Soda had called me into Ponyboy's new room, his tone had immediately had me worried, and then I'd seen the kid. Ponyboy had been pale with flushed cheeks, and then he'd started muttering about his mom and how he hadn't done something, and I had no idea how to comfort him. I tried talking to him, but he didn't seem to be keeping up too well. So we'd given him Aspirin and I'd left Sodapop to look after him, dropping into the recliner in the living room and leaning my head back, closing my eyes.

He missed his mom, I knew that much. She'd killed herself…and then he'd tried to kill himself. And for a while, I'd been worrying that he'd try again. And now he was sick. And we couldn't take him to the doctor. I wasn't his guardian. Sure, I cared about the kid. I wanted to look after him and make sure he was okay and I was happy to give him a room to stay in…but legally, I had no right to take him to a doctor or anything. They'd insist on calling his uncle and then we'd have to deal with that.

But what if he was sick…like really sick? Like…sick enough to need a hospital. I remembered once when Sodapop had been eight or nine, he'd gotten really sick. Mom hadn't been able to wake him and they'd rushed him to the hospital and he'd been sick for days. I couldn't remember what he'd been sick with, but what if Ponyboy had something like that and needed a hospital?

Sodapop stayed with him for a few hours until lunchtime, and then I told him to go get us some food. The kid was still out, and I reached out, pushing some of his hair back. He flinched a little, then blinked wearily. "Mom?" He asked, staring up at the ceiling right past me. He missed his mom…hell, I missed my mom too. My mom would know what to do. Sitting on the bed beside the boy, I leaned in a little, hoping he was at least somewhat coherent. He seemed to be breathing okay, which was a relief, but I knew that could change if he got too hot.

"Kiddo? You awake?" I asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He muttered something, blinking a few times at the ceiling, and I squeezed the shoulder. "Ponyboy?"

"Huh?" His eyes seemed to focus then, and I grabbed the thermometer, urging him to open his mouth, which he did, and I put it under his tongue. Closing his eyes, he let his head tilt to the side, cheek resting on the pillow, and I waited for the thing to tell me how hot he was. His fever was up to 102. I was no doctor, but I knew that wasn't good. Jumping up, I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in cold water, then hurried back into the room to place it over his forehead. He didn't respond, and when Sodapop brought in sacks of burgers, we ate at his bedside.

"How bad?" He asked, jerking his chin at the thermometer.

"102," I told him, taking a bite of my burger while he grabbed a fry. "Where are the guys?"

"Steve's at work until 1. Haven't seen the others." I sure was grateful that I was off, but I couldn't ignore the twinge of regret. I was twenty years old, I got one day off a week…and this was how I spent it. Shaking that thought off and feeling hot shame for a second, I reached out for the kid's forehead again. "Darry…"

"He's gonna be fine, Pepsi-Cola." I murmured, nudging my shoulder against his. "Probably just a cold or something."

"What if he's not?" My brother asked, voice small. I glanced over, my jaw tight.

"We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Should we call someone?" I sighed, shaking my head.

"I don't know, Soda. I…I don't know." And I didn't. I didn't know how to take care of this sick kid that Sodapop wanted to practically adopt. Staring down at the kid, I felt my chest tighten a little. I didn't want him to go back to that house. That thought didn't surprise me. I liked him. He was smart and he was a pretty good fighter. He was tough. But most surprisingly after the kind of life he'd had for the first fourteen years of his life, he was a genuinely nice kid. Polite. Soft spoken. Friendly. Likable.

"Can Tim help?" That was the thing, I guess. Tim could help with money if we needed it. He knew I was good for it. But this wasn't my brother or my kid. This was a kid we were letting stay with us sometimes…heck, whenever he wanted, but I couldn't afford to pay Tim back if we had to take him to the hospital or something. This kid had a guardian. A shitty one, sure. They'd call him if we took Ponyboy to the doctor, and then he might take it out on the kid or skip town or…hell, I didn't know. It wasn't like I'd been given a manual on my 20th birthday like everyone seemed to assume.

"We'll give it a day or two," I told him again, making my voice firm. Sure. I had to sound sure. Like I knew what the hell I was doing here.

"I can work more if we…"

"No." I didn't mean for the word to come out so harsh, but the thought of my sixteen-year-old brother wasting even more of his life at that gas station…I knew he liked it. And there was nothing wrong with working at a gas station. He was good with cars and could probably move up after a while…but our parents had died and then he'd dropped out of school to work full time and he was only sixteen! Too young for this. Sometimes I felt like I was still too young for this. And now there was another kid to look after. But as much as the thought of taking in this kid freaked me out, and as much my mind rebelled at the thought of having even more responsibility and expenses…something about this was right.

Not the sick part, or the part where his guardian was an asshole. No…this kid…there was something about him. He felt like he belonged here. Sodapop saw him as his little brother now, despite how little we actually knew the guy. It had been different with our other friends. They all had parents, some of them crappy parents, but still parents. Well, except Dallas, but he sure didn't want any of us acting like parental figures. But Ponyboy…this kid needed a family. It didn't seem like he'd ever had a real one. We didn't have much of one left, but we could be his family. It wasn't the first time I'd thought that, but it was the first time it seemed like something had clicked into place in my brain, staying there like something I'd never forget. We could give him a family. A real one.

"You meeting Steve after he gets off?" I asked, pushing the kid's hair back once more.

"I'll call him and tell him I can't." Soda told me in a murmur, but I shook my head.

"No. Go out with Steve. Pick up some more Aspirin and some soup. We don't really have any. Crackers too." I reached into my wallet, pulling out a five and passing it over. "I'll stay with him."

"You ain't gotta..."

I didn't know how to tell Sodapop about the shift…about the piece of information in my brain clicking into place. Neither of us was all that good with words, although he'd argue that I was better. Still, I hoped that it was obvious in the look I gave him. "I'll stay with him," I told him again. Nodding slowly, Soda pulled himself to his feet, ruffling Ponyboy's hair.

"Yeah…alright. Feel better, Pony." He told the boy, his eyes soft for a minute before he headed out, and I shifted a little on the bed, putting the bag of our trash on the ground. We probably had a little tomato soup in the kitchen, although I wasn't sure if he liked tomato soup. Still, he'd need to eat.

I headed into the kitchen to heat up the single can of tomato soup and was turning on the burner when there were footsteps in the hallway. Peering around the corner, I frowned when I saw the kid leaning in the doorway of his bedroom, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "Hey, Pony." My voice was soft but he didn't seem to have heard me, staring straight ahead at the wall. He was pretty shaky, so I left the pot on the stove, moving over and putting a hand on his shoulder.

That seemed to snap him right out of whatever trance he'd been in, and I barely dodged the weak right hook he threw at me. "Get off!" He yelled it, his voice cracking as he turned to make a run for it toward our front door.

"Woah…hey, kiddo! Stop…Ponyboy!" I caught his arm, which wasn't hard because he barely managed two steps. "Pony, it's me. Kid, it's Darry. I ain't gonna hurt you. Stop." I urged, grabbing both of his wrists and waiting for him to recognize me. He just shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes, but he did stop fighting me.

"Where's mom?" He asked, panting from the effort of standing, and I hooked an arm around his shoulders, trying to lead him back to the bedroom. "Please…where'd she go?" His voice broke a little and he finally looked up at me, huge eyes wet.

"She…" I sighed, squeezing him to my side, glad he wasn't fighting anymore. "Kiddo, your mom's gone. Remember?" Ponyboy slumped against me a little and I held him up, surprised at how light he was.

"I don't want to go to the bathroom." He told me softly, and I blinked.

"Okay." I tried to get him walking toward the bedroom door and he stumbled along, looking around in confusion. Glory he was hot.

"She's in there…she…I don't want to see it again. The tub…there's so much blood." He was muttering, his eyes closed as he let me lead him back to the bedroom.

My stomach turned as I got a good grip on the kid once more, guiding him through the bedroom doorway and back to the bed he'd crawled out of. He'd seen…he'd been so young and he'd seen his mom's dead body…after she'd killed herself. I wondered how often he had nightmares about it. How often he thought of it. "No one is in the bathtub," I told him softly, easing him back down on the bed and covering him with just the sheet, flipping the pillow under his head and pushing his hair back. "You're at my house. Okay? Remember?"

"Your house?" He repeated slowly like he couldn't quite figure out what that meant.

"Yeah. You remember who I am?"

"Darry." He muttered, blinking and seeming to come back to himself, eyes clearing up just a little. "What's going on?"

"You're sick, kiddo. Think you could eat some soup? I'm making tomato." He murmured something, trying to nod, then dropped his head on the pillow once more, his face ashy pale.

I hurried to the kitchen, stirring the soup and watching it until it was hot enough to pour into a bowl, then carried it on a plate with some toast into the bedroom. Sitting it on the bedside table, I sat down on the bed beside him, pushing his too-long hair out of his eyes and shaking him a little. "Ponyboy?" He hummed again, eyes glassy once more as he looked at me. "Come on, little buddy. Sit up for me." Putting a hand under the back of his neck and one on his shoulder, I sat him up so he could lean against the wall, then handed him the plate of food.

He nibbled at the toast, then managed a few bites of the soup before he was swaying again, and I took his temperature once more, jaw clenching when it hadn't gone down any. Grabbing him a glass of water from the kitchen, I gave him more Aspirin and let him sleep, cleaning up around the house and filling the guys in on the phone, but checking in on the kid every few minutes and changing the cool washcloth on his forehead.

He slept until dinnertime when Two-Bit showed up with a casserole that his mom had sent over. Johnny was with him, both of them glancing past me and toward the bedroom where Ponyboy slept. "How is he?" Johnny asked, his voice real soft like he might wake the kid.

"Not great. Got him to eat some soup earlier but he won't hardly wake up. His fever's pretty high, but I've been giving him Aspirin." I shrugged, sure they wouldn't know what to do any more than I did. I popped the casserole in the oven, and over the next hour, the rest of the guys filtered in, everyone uncharacteristically quiet. There was no radio blasting or TV up on full volume…the guys just sat around the living room, waiting for the food to cook.

"He's been pretty quiet for the last few days," Johnny answered Dallas, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I realized Dal must have asked something about Ponyboy.

"He's been going to track practice." Steve put in with a shrug, glancing back toward the room. Sodapop stood up from where he'd dropped onto the sofa next to his friend and headed toward the bedroom where Ponyboy still slept. I'd taken his temperature about an hour earlier, but his fever was holding steady. I'd also had him drinking water, but he'd been too out of it to drink much.

I had work at the warehouse the next day, but Sodapop was off and said he'd stay with Ponyboy. Steve said he'd probably be around too, and Two-Bit offered to talk to his mom, see if she knew anything. With two kids, she'd probably be the best to ask. I thanked him and told him to thank her for the casserole for me too. Groceries were getting kind of low, and I knew we'd need to go soon.

The guys hung around for a while, and Steve took the couch while Johnny curled up in the recliner around midnight, eyes drooping. Dallas said he was going to meet Tim somewhere, and I wondered if he would mention the kid and how sick he was. I didn't want to take Tim's money or owe him anything. He was a good friend to have, but he could also be dangerous. He wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to find yourself in debt to.

Sodapop came out of the bedroom, shaking his head when I asked how the kid was. "Same." He told me simply, sitting my Steve's feet on the end of the sofa. Johnny blinked at us from under his blanket where he was nearly asleep on the recliner, and I jerked my head toward the kitchen, Sodapop following.

"Give it another day. He's been taking Aspirin and he had some water and soup. He's not throwing up or nothing. Maybe it's a cold." We both knew that was a high fever for a cold, but neither of us were doctors! Nor did we know any doctors. "If's it's still bad tomorrow, we'll call a doctor. See what they say. It's free to call and ask."

"But if we have to take him in…"

"We'll figure it out. It'll be fine, Soda." I tried to assure him, ruffling his hair and trying to look like I knew what I was doing. "I'm going to bed…I get off at 6 tomorrow. If there's an emergency, call me."

"What time do you go in?"

"6."

"That's 12 hours, Dar…"

"We need the money. It's fine. Just give him some of that soup tomorrow if you can, and make sure he takes the Aspirin. He'll be fine." Nodding slowly, Sodapop stayed in the kitchen while I headed to my room where I dropped down onto my bed, closing my eyes and falling asleep almost immediately where I dreamed about dead women in bathtubs and the kid in the room next door, grabbing my arm and begging me to help him find his mom.

The scream woke me at 4am, jerking me out of sleep, and before I knew it, I was sitting upright, staring around the room. "What…" I muttered, exhaustion pulling at me, and for a moment I wasn't sure why I was awake. Then someone screamed again. Jumping out of bed, I followed the noise until I found Sodapop kneeling on the floor next to Ponyboy who thrashed in his sleep, head thrown back as he screamed.

"Hey, wake up. Pony…it's okay. Wake up. Pone?" Soda kept up a stream of words, shaking his shoulder and leaning in close, obviously trying not to scare the kid. Behind me, I heard Steve and Johnny approach, but I waved them away, shutting the bedroom door behind me just as Ponyboy opened his eyes, gasping for breath.

"What…what?" He asked, looking from Sodapop to me and seeming almost coherent. "What?" He asked again, blinking rapidly and seeming pretty scared.

"Hey, kiddo. You were having a nightmare." Sodapop told him, keeping his voice real soft. I grabbed a lukewarm glass of water from the bedside table and handed it to him. Thanking me quietly, he took a long drink, running a hand down his face. I reached out then, ignoring the way he flinched back, and rested the back of my hand on his forehead. He was still hot, but not as bad as before. The kid just stared at me, then nodded a little, swallowing hard and looking around the room.

"Sorry…I…I'm sorry. What time is it?" He asked. I waved him off, ready to crawl back into bed.

"Early. Go back to bed, kid."

"I ought to go…" He started to push himself up, which there wasn't much danger of, as he could barely move, but Sodapop held him down anyway.

"No way, Pone. Go to bed. We'll talk in the morning. Okay?" He asked, looking pretty serious, and it didn't take but a couple of seconds for him to fall back asleep. Running a hand over my face and wishing I would get more than another hour of sleep, I drug myself back to bed, hoping the kid would stay asleep and that the nightmares would leave all of us alone for the night.


	23. Charity

**Charity**

I think I dreamed about the zoo again. Over and over, I dreamed of that place…one of the last memories I had of my mother. And again and again, I jerked awake, sometimes yelling, other time just gasping for breath. The last time I woke up, my head was against something warm, something wrapped around me. I'd been dreaming something else…my head against someone's shoulder. My mom? Yeah…in the dream, my mom was holding me against her side, an arm thrown over me, and I was warm and safe and comfortable.

The second I woke, though, I knew something was…off. Different. My mom was gone. Even if she wasn't, she had never held me like that. Not that I remembered, anyway. Someone was holding me and it wasn't my mother. My mother was gone. Bathtub. Blood…I remembered that. So much blood.

My head ached a little and my throat felt raw, but overall, I felt better than I had before. I think. I couldn't remember a lot of it. Screaming. Crying. Someone assuring me that it was okay. I didn't even have the strength to feel embarrassed…just opened my eyes and blinked at the ceiling. Then, shifting a little in the bed, I felt resistance. Someone was holding me. Groaning, I managed to turn my head and found a brown mess of hair a few inches from my face. The person's face was against my shoulder, arm thrown over me, and I resisted the urge to stiffen. He was touching me…a lot. My whole side was pressed against him.

People who touched me hurt me. Almost without fail. The only exception were the guys I'd met so recently I wasn't even 100% sure I could rule them out yet, even though I wanted to and they obviously wanted me to. They'd been real good to me and suddenly I realized I was in that room…the one Sodapop had insisted I think of as mine. My room. At Darry Curtis's house. In my own bed with Sodapop Curtis who must have lay down at some point in the night.

I'd been sick. Memories started to come back slowly and I blinked at them. I'd been sick and Darry and Sodapop had insisted I stay. Everything was getting clearer. I'd woken up sick at some point and someone had stayed with me. These people, who I'd met just a few weeks ago, had let me stay in their home and given me a room and had taken care of me. It was kind of embarrassing, actually…I had such a shitty actual guardian that a group of strangers had outdone him easily. He couldn't even be bothered to do the bare minimum, while strangers had gone above and beyond.

I wanted to trust them. I wanted to trust the guy laying beside me, arm thrown around me like we were brothers or something. Family. He treated me like family, or like the families I'd seen on TV and read about in books, anyway. My family was terrible…I'd learned that a long time ago. It was why I wanted out so bad. If I'd have been at home when I was sick, my uncle would have left me to die. Gone to work, made his own food, gone out with friends, and I'd have just laid in my room until I could get up the strength to find some Aspirin or something and hope that worked. It usually did. I'd never been sick enough to need a doctor while staying with my uncle, unless you counted that time I broke my arm...well, the time he broke my arm.

Beside me, the guy shifted a little and I felt my stomach clench. People hurt me when they touched me. It happened almost every time. Kids at school. My family. The rich socs from the other side of town who apparently made a sport of beating on poor kids. But these guys…these guys that looked like they could snap someone's neck for looking at them wrong with their leather jackets and slicked back hair and feral smiles, had never hurt me. They'd taken me in, been real nice…given me a safe place to sleep. An actual room. In their house. A place where I could come anytime and sleep. Why? Why were they doing this? My still too-warm brain couldn't put that last piece of the puzzle together. Why? Why take in some kid off the streets and save him? Because I'd saved their friend first?

That was possible. I'd saved Johnny and they all seemed to like him a lot, especially Dallas. Which would explain why they were looking after me. But this went further. It had to. No one just let you into their house and gave you a room unless you were family…good family. Family that cared about each other. These guys weren't my family. They were friends, sure. I'd give them that much. I'd never exactly had friends before, but I'd seen friends. Read about them in books and watched them on TV. Friends looked out for each other sometimes.

My thoughts were going in circles and still, I couldn't find the answer, so I dropped my head back on the pillow, turning toward the window and looking out over Sodapop's hair. It was light out…just barely. Sunrise. Which made it seven or eight in the morning. And I felt it…the urge to run, tugging at my chest. Run. Get out. Go. Go before they change their minds. Everyone who ever helped me did.

I'd been a charity project before, back when I'd lived with my grandfather. The family a few doors down whose son I'd run track with had taken pity on me…had taken me into their house after school and fed me and given me clothes, assuming that my grandfather didn't have the money to do it, never guessing that he just didn't want to. And for a few weeks, it had been great. I'd never really talked to their son much…I was more his mother's project.

She'd told me to call her 'Auntie Deb' because apparently, all the kids did. And she would have me over after track practice especially so I wouldn't have to walk. They had a pool in their backyard that she'd let me swim in, and at nine years old, I'd believed her. I'd believed that this family would want to take me in. I'd had elaborate daydreams that she'd show up one day, especially when my grandfather was angry at me, and tell my grandfather that I was going to live with her and her family now. Her son would be my brother and he'd be really nice and we'd play together, and we'd get a dog and take care of it, and people at school would start talking to me. I'd let myself believe that they would be my new family because this was what families were supposed to be like.

It had lasted for almost an entire school year…up until the summer. They'd been going on vacation all the way to Florida to the beach, and I'd waited for days for them to invite me. To tell me to pack a swimsuit and jump in the car, and then everything would change. My new life, the one where I had a family, would start. I'd get to see the ocean and learn to swim and it would be so much fun! I'd never been on a vacation before.

Then summer vacation had started and, after waiting a few days, I'd walked over to their house to find it locked up and dark. They'd left without me. My grandfather had found me crying in the backyard, curled up against a tree, and had all but laughed at me. "You thought they'd take you with them?"

When they'd returned two weeks later, I'd gone to their house. Thinking back, it made my chest tighten with shame. What a stupid kid…they'd sent me a signal loud and clear, and I'd been too dumb to see it. Knocking on their door, I'd waited on the porch. Then, the door had swung open and Auntie Deb had been there, tan with shorter hair, and she'd given me this look. Pitying, but distant…the way people looked at the people that sometimes slept on the streets or waited in lines by the homeless shelter. A look that said 'that's too bad. I feel sorry for you. But I'm not going to do anything about it.' "Oh…Ponyboy. How are you?"

I was sad, but more. I hadn't had the word for it back then. Heartbroken. Despondent. Betrayed. I hadn't had the words but I'd felt them. Other things too. Hurting, because my grandfather had smacked me the day before when he'd caught me sneaking food, and it still hurt. Hungry, because he hadn't made breakfast or dinner. Scared, because I'd thought they were going to be my new family, and I was realizing that things like that didn't happen to kids like me. No one was going to swoop in and save me…this was my life. The words had stuck in my throat, and I'd stuttered out something. Good. Fine. Thank you. Something like that.

"Well, we've got a lot of unpacking to do. Why don't you run along, sweetie." Her voice had been different. She'd gotten bored with her charity project and was ready to give it up. Thankfully, I just nodded and left. Didn't break down and cry like I wanted to, not until I'd gotten home. It wouldn't be long before I moved in with my uncle anyway, so I didn't have to deal with that embarrassment much longer. He'd move us around more. But there had been that first track practice of the new year, and afterward I'd watched her when she'd come to pick up her son, arm around his shoulder, hand ruffling his hair. I'd never spoken to her or her son again.

So I was waiting. It hadn't even been that long, but they were going to get bored. Because I was a charity project and no one kept those up. Not for longer than a few months. I'd never let it happen again…had rebuffed every offer to make my life better because I knew the score. These guys were a little different. They didn't seem like the types to have enough money to go on vacation to Florida and they didn't have a pool in their back yard, but they would still get bored. And where would that leave me? They lived next door.

I slipped out from under Sodapop's arm, careful to move slowly. I didn't want to wake him up…didn't want any questions. My feet were silent as they touched the floor, and I padded over to the corner where I found my shoes and my backpack. Sodapop muttered something on the bed, and I froze, turning to stare at him, but he didn't wake, just grabbed the pillow and curled up on his side, taking a deep breath before settling.

Slipping the window open, I climbed out, landing easily on the grass, and headed over to my own house. They were nice guys, but it was dangerous to get too close…to let myself think that this was my new family. They were my friends. Maybe. Probably. Nice guys, I could hang around with. But not my family. My family was either at work or drunk somewhere…hopefully at home. My family was an asshole who beat on me, who I'd do my best to escape as soon as I graduated from high school. Maybe Darry had been right…maybe I could get scholarships and go to college.

My front door was unlocked, so I headed inside. My uncle's truck wasn't in the driveway, so I didn't have to worry about him. Instead, I went right to the bathroom where I found the Aspirin, then went to my room, not bothering to lock the door. He'd just break it if he wanted it. Dropping onto the bed and swallowing a handful of Aspirin, I closed my eyes, going back to sleep and feeling cold without Sodapop's arm around me.

The next time I woke, it was bright outside. Groaning and rubbing a hand down my face, I looked around the room I hadn't been in in a few days. Wishing I had curtains, I dragged myself out of bed and pressed my ear to my bedroom door, dodging a pile of laundry on the way. I really needed to clean up. There was no noise coming from the other side of the door, so I held my breath, then opened the door.

The hallway was empty, so I went to the bathroom, then to the kitchen where I threw two sandwiches together. I hadn't been to the grocery for a while, and apparently, my uncle hadn't either, so our fridge was almost empty. I took the sandwiches and a glass of water to my room, scarfing down the first one, then setting the second one on the bed while I cleaned up my room. After picking up my laundry, I went ahead and threw a load in the washer, then took a rag and cleaned up the kitchen, doing the dishes and resting every few minutes when my body reminded me that I was still pretty sick.

Hoping it would be gone by the time it was time for track practice, I went back to my room, listening to the soft humming of our washer as I ate the second sandwich, finishing off the water that soothed my still sore throat. For a second, I thought about going to the grocery, but that would mean taking more money from Aaron, which was always dangerous. Dropping back onto my newly made bed, I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness that I had to wait for a while to pass.

When everything went back to normal, my head still a little sore but not as dizzy, I got back up and grabbed my backpack, determined to do some homework and not think about the people next door. I knew I ought to thank them. I knew I needed to maybe stop thinking of them as my family and instead as people that were nice and who had helped me out…that was normal, right? If I got too attached, I was going to get hurt. I didn't want to get hurt. Not again. I was so sick of being hurt. But how was I supposed to stop myself from trusting these people when they kept proving they could be trusted?  
A knock at my window made me jump, and I dropped my pencil where I was doing my math homework, whirling around on the bed to find Sodapop Curtis standing outside, grinning with his arms crossed. Putting my textbook down, I crawled over and pushed the window open. "Hey. You ditched me." Sodapop told me cheerfully, looking more amused than offended.

"I had homework," I told him simply, shrugging a little, and he snorted.

"Ah homework…I don't think I ever did any of that." He moved over, leaning forward and crossing his arms and leaning in my window. "Can I come in?" I nodded, scooting back and holding out a hand he grabbed, climbing up and crawling through the window, landing gracelessly on my bed and knocking my book onto the ground. He was like a big dog, unaware of how long his limbs were, and managed to knock the rest of my homework onto the ground too, propping himself up against my pillow and the wall.

"What's going on, kid? You feel better?"

"Yeah…mostly." I shrugged.

"Good. We thought we'd have to take you to the doctor or something." I hated the worry in his eyes…hated hat he'd be worried about me.

"Nah. I'm fine. You guys ain't gotta worry about me."

"Sure we do." He reached out, ruffling my hair. "You were sick for a while…how come you didn't tell us you weren't feeling good?" I shrugged.

"Just a cold or something. Nothing to worry about." No matter how hard I tried to create distance between us, pushing him away, he kept getting closer…and I kept letting him in. All of them…I kept trusting them. And so far, they hadn't let me down. But what happened when they got bored with this?

"Didn't seem like a cold…you were awful hot, kiddo." I shrugged again. "Pony? What's the matter?" He looked around the room then. "Your uncle ain't here, is he?" He asked, his voice going soft. "His truck wasn't here, so I didn't think…"

"He ain't here," I told him, making my voice hard and hating myself. Hating what I was doing. I didn't want to push him away. Not him…not the guy who'd immediately wanted to be my friend. My first real friend. The guy who had insisted I could sleep in their parent's room anytime I wanted and who made sure I got free food when I went to the DX with him…this guy probably wouldn't hurt me. Probably wouldn't get bored and move on, dropping me like almost everyone did. But what if he did? "I really ought to do my homework," I told him quietly.

He stared at me for a second but didn't get mad like I thought he might. Instead, he went softer, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. "What's going on, kid? You still feel bad?" Why did he have to make me want to trust him?

"What do you want?" I finally asked, letting the words burst out of my mouth and hating myself for them. "What do you guys want from me?"

He blinked, wide-eyed, looking around the room once more before leaning in. "Want? I don't…I don't want anything, kiddo."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He asked, patient despite how unhinged I must have sounded, my eyes darting back to the window like I was going to make a jump for it.

"I don't get it, okay? I don't get why you're doing this."

"Ponyboy, calm down, kiddo." He urged, reaching out and clasping my shoulder. Just that contact was almost enough to undo me. People didn't touch me unless they were going to hurt me. Hadn't I learned that? Except he never had. I felt my eyes get hot and I glared down at my blanket. "Pone? What's going on?"

"I don't get it."

"Don't get what?" He asked, sounding a little exasperated now.

"Why are you guys doing this? Why did you let me stay when I was sick and take care of me and buy me food…what do you want? What…" He shook his head then, squeezing my shoulder a little harder.

"Hey, we don't want anything. Okay? I promise. You're our friend…"

"Friends don't take care of each other like this…they don't give them rooms in their houses." He smiled a little.

"Maybe not all friends…but we do." I shook my head but he shook me. "Hey, look at me for a sec." I did, meeting his eyes with my wet ones and feeling like a baby. "My parents died less than a year ago, you know? This…Darry and the guys, they're all I've got left. Steve's old man is awful and who even knows where Dallas's parents are. Johnny's got it real rough at home, and Two's old man split. So…we're what we've got. They're my family. I'm their family. For whatever reason, we've all got either shitty luck or got born into awful families, so we make our own. And not all of them would admit it, but we love our family. And now you're one of us."

"I didn't do nothing to be one of you." I reminded him, and he shrugged, grinning a little.

"Neither did Johnny. You know, he was kind of like you at first. Real quiet. Didn't know what to make of a bunch of hoods who all but adopted him. But he's family now. You saved our friend. And you're a good kid. You're our friend. So now you're a part of our family. You ain't gotta be alone anymore, Pone. We've got your back."

"It's happened before," I admitted softly, staring at my lap, and he leaned in.

"What has?"

"I've been someone's charity project…then they got bored. They always get bored." His eyes went hard, then, jaw clenching before he took a breath, shaking his head.

"You ain't our charity project. Hell, kid, you think we can afford to give to charity? We're the ones that need to be someone's charity project." He was grinning and I had to laugh a little, wiping at my eyes. He was real nice and didn't say nothing about it. "You're our buddy. Our family. You're part of the gang, now. We ain't gonna get bored with you…you don't get bored with your family. That's for life. The whole gang likes you, Pony. You're safe with us."

I clenched my jaw real tight, trying not to believe it…trying not to let his words touch me. But it didn't work, and I felt my throat close up. He moved forward, putting an arm around me and letting me rest on his shoulder, one hand rubbing my back. For a long time, I just cried, wishing I could stop, but he never moved or acted uncomfortable. Instead, he rubbed my back and told me it was going to be okay, and I almost started to believe it.

When I finally quit and rubbed my eyes, wanting to apologize but not knowing how, he ruffled my hair, leaning back and grinning sadly. "You still feeling bad, kiddo?"

"Yeah." I admitted, trying to get my hair to lie flat again. It didn't work.

"Alright. Forget the homework. Come back home and get some more rest." I wanted to put the wall back up. It would be safer. And when these people inevitably hurt me, it was going to be so much worse than Auntie Deb. So much more painful…because I knew better. But that didn't stop me from putting my homework and books back in my backpack, heading out the door with Sodapop, and climbing back through the window into the bedroom he insisted was mine.


	24. Trouble

**Trouble**

"On your mark, get set…" There was a long pause as the guys on the track got into position, the smallest kid on the outside of the track the one my eyes were following. "Go!" As soon as the word was out of the coach's mouth, the guys on the field were off, Ponyboy in the middle of the pack as they rounded the first turn, then the second. I shifted a little on the uncomfortably cold bleachers, backpack slouched at my feet. As they got close to the third turn, Ponyboy pulled ahead, and I whooped and hollered when he finished fourth. It wasn't his best, but the kid had been sick up until two days ago, and had been taking it pretty easy, mostly staying at Darry's house, so he wasn't exactly in the best of shape at the moment.

As soon as he had crossed the finish line, Pony put his hands on his knees, panting for a second. The coach called out for the next group to take their places and Pony's group started doing jumping jacks, Pony a half beat behind everyone else. Still, he held up pretty good. For the most part he did fine, and I nodded to Steve who clambered onto the bleachers beside him. "You're late." I told Steve with a grin. "He already ran."

"Oh no. I missed the kid running in a circle?" Steve grumbled, leaning back on the bleachers and pulling out his history book.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, glancing at my buddy who glared at his history book.

"Ran into Randy in the hall. Him and Bob…assholes." I leaned in to get a closer look but he looked fine. No new bruises, no bloody nose.

"Did I miss a rumble?"

"No. They were just talking." He waved me off, glancing up at the track. "Hey, the kid's running again." I followed his gaze, watching Ponyboy crouch in position. He wasn't looking great…a little pale and sweatier than he should be considering it was kind of cold, but he still took off with the rest of the guys, keeping in the middle of the pack until they got around the second turn when he started to pull ahead. "He's not looking great, is he?"

"No…" I muttered, leaning in. Steve had abandoned his history book and was watching the kid critically. "Usually he'd have pulled ahead by now."

"He's been sick…probably shouldn't even be running yet." Steve grumbled. "Why didn't the stupid kid tell the coach he was sick?"

"'Cause he was probably afraid of getting kicked off the team." I shrugged, not sure if the coach would have been that harsh, but no doubt the kid didn't want to risk it. He actually liked running around in circles with a bunch of other guys outside in October. Some of the meets were inside, but most he was just running outside in the cold and everyone was outside watching in the cold and it sucked.

Pony finished sixth this time, and barely managed to finish the pushups the coach assigned them. When that was over, Pony staggered to his feet, wiping a hand over his face and listening to the coach tell them what to work on for the next practice. Then the coach pulled him aside, and I jumped to my feet, me and Steve climbing down off the bleachers and making our way over to him. Pony glanced up from where he was talking to the coach and nodded to us.

"Alright, Ponyboy. I'll see you next week."

"No, I'll be…"

"You're sick. Next week." The coach told him sharply, glancing over at us. "Mr. Matthews, Mr. Randle."

"Hey Coach." Steve nodded and I stuck my hands in my pockets.

"Ponyboy, go home and rest."

"I'm not…"

"You're sick. Go." Ponyboy opened his mouth to argue but I threw an arm around him, pulling him back away from the coach.

"Come on, kid. Coach is right. You need to rest, kiddo."

I ignored his continued protest that he wasn't sick and pulled him away from the coach who was shaking his head, looking almost concerned. "I don't need to rest."

"Yeah, well I'm older and I say you need to rest so you need to rest. Come on. You can crash at my place if you want."

"I'm fine, Two-Bit." He rubbed at his eyes, sighing. "Just…tired."

"Yeah, that's part of the sick thing. So, my place or your room at Darry's?" He shrugged, but let me drag him. "You probably should have stayed home anyway."

"Can't miss school." He grumbled. "They'll call Aaron."

"He ain't gonna do nothing about it." Steve assured him as I pushed him into the back seat of Steve's car, me climbing in behind him and throwing an arm around his shoulder. Ponyboy hesitated for a second, then leaned against my side a little, sighing.

"We'll get you some Aspirin, then you can sleep."

"I've got homework." I rolled my eyes, and Steve snorted from the front seat.

"Shut up, kid." I told him with a grin, and he did, keeping quiet until we pulled up to Darry's house. No one was home yet, so I helped him into the living room and let him drop on the sofa.

"I'm not sick, Two-Bit!" He called while I grabbed a thermometer and a bottle of Aspirin. Steve dropped into Darry's recliner, pulling out his history book and got started on his reading, still looking kind of upset. I wondered if something was going on at home, but decided to focus on one kid at a time.

"Alright, kid. Open up." I pushed the thermometer into his face and the kid rolled his eyes but opened his mouth, letting me shove it under his tongue. I put the Aspirin and the glass of water on the table in front of him, then dropped onto the sofa beside him. He'd spent lunch in the library, probably doing homework or reading or whatever this kid did for fun, so I needed to get him some food, but at the moment, he looked like he was about to fall asleep.

His temperature was 99.2, so it wasn't much of a fever, but I still pushed the Aspirin and water at him and he swallowed it without complaint. "Thought you weren't sick." I grinned, unable to resist, and he rolled his eyes.

"I was fine this morning."

"I'll bet." I muttered, ruffling his hair. "Go lay down." He started to argue, but I channeled Darry and gave him my best 'obey me or else look, pointing at his bedroom. Rolling his eyes again, he stood, stumbling his way to the bedroom.

The fever was gone when he woke up a few hours later, so I didn't say anything when Pony went straight for his backpack and started working on his homework. I just rolled my eyes, heading into the kitchen and put some sandwiches together, shoving one toward the kid that took it absently, thanking me quietly and nibbling at it. After a couple of bites, he scarfed the rest of it down, taking the second one I handed him without question.

Sodapop got home around 5, grinning and nodded at me, ruffling Ponyboy's hair as he passed on his way to the kitchen. Pony had finished his homework a little while ago and we'd all played cards for a while before turning our attention to the TV. Nothing much was on, and Steve had distracted himself with Darry's newspaper, passing the sports pages to me and giving the comics to Ponyboy who had grinned and took them with a quiet 'thanks.' For a kid raised by a bunch of assholes, he sure had good manners.

Sodapop sat beside Ponyboy on the sofa, patting him on the back. "How's it going, Pone?"

"Fine." I could tell Ponyboy was doing his best not to stiffen up when Sodapop touched him. The kid didn't like being touched much. Always stiffened up and pulled away a little. But he was making an effort to sit still when Sodapop put a hand on his back. "How was work?" He asked.

"It was fine." He was holding one of the sandwiches I made, taking a bit bite before leaning back on the sofa. "Steve, wanna get out of here? There's a poker game at Tim's."

"Yeah…sure." Steve blinked at him, frowning a little and then glancing at me. "Thought you had plans with Sandy?"

"Nah. She's got plans with her mom or something." Steve looked like he wanted to say something, but he just shrugged, glancing back at me, then jerking his head toward the door. "You wanna come, Pony?" Sodapop asked.

"I think I'm gonna hang out here if that's alright." Pony said, voice soft and hesitant.

"Sure, kiddo. You can stay as long as you want. You know that." And then he ruffled Ponyboy's hair one last time before he headed out, and Pony pushed his hair back in place, watching the door slam behind them before turning to me. I took a swig of my beer, changing the channel, then turned to the kid who'd been staring at me for almost a few minutes.

"What's up, Pone?"

"Do you think…um…does Sodapop seem…okay?" He asked hesitantly. I shrugged, careful not to seem like I was upset with him. If the kid thought someone was upset with him or thought he was in the wrong or even seemed slightly irritated about anything while the kid was in the same room, the kid shut down faster than Kathy when her brother knocked on her bedroom door when we were…well, anyway, the kid shut down real fast. So I was careful to seem neutral.

"I don't know, kid. He seemed fine to me." He nodded, going back to watching TV before heading to his room. It was pretty cool of Darrel and Soda to let him crash here whenever he wanted. It had taken some time for the kid to start actually using it, but for the last week or so, he'd been better about accepting our help.

I left after about an hour when Darry got home, meeting up with Dallas and Johnny and heading out to a movie. I invited the kid but he said he was fine, so I left him to it and didn't seem him again until school the next day. That wasn't so weird...despite being one of the gang, he kept to himself a lot.

Everything was calm until Friday. I'd given Kathy a ride to school, so it was almost lunchtime by the time I saw Pony. He looked a lot better, leaning against his locker and talking to Johnny, seeming almost at ease. It was a nice look on the kid who always seemed tense about something. He said something I didn't catch and Johnny chuckled, nodding before someone passed a little too close to him and slammed into him with their shoulder. It was hard to make out the guy in the crowded hall, but I saw Pony brace Johnny, catching his arm, both of their eyes following a dark haired guy that started laughing, a couple of his buddies gathering around. I pushed past them, moving to stand between the kids and the socs who'd grouped together in the hallway.

Suddenly it was real tense and quiet, and people were moving aside, the girls going to their classes and whatever socs and greasers were around taking sides against the wall. The guy who'd run into Johnny, Randy, grinned and crossed his arms, pretty sure of himself since he was being backed by three of his buddies, including Bob Sheldon who was notorious for jumping greaser kids. "Something wrong, Matthews?" Randy asked, and I gave him a dangerous smile.

Lately, the socs had been kind of quiet at school. I wasn't sure why…maybe they had found someone else to torment, or maybe they were just biding their time. Either way, I wasn't about to let them get away with this shit. Not with Johnny and Pony, the two quietest, least confrontational kids around our side of town. They were good kids, and some assholes had already jumped Johnny, and Pony had gotten mixed up in the mess. But none of them looked even remotely intimidated.

"Nah, man. Long as you watch where you're going." I told him. Randy grinned back, looking between the three of us and ignoring the other greasers who were standing around. I figured we had a few minutes before a teacher bothered to stick their head out of their classroom and break it up. Hell, it might not even turn into a rumble, I thought, jerking my head toward Johnny.

"You wanna apologize to my friend?" For a minute, there was a tense silence, then Randy chuckled again.

"Tell your friend to stay out of my way, Matthews, and we won't have a problem." I lifted an eyebrow, about to pull a fist back and start a rumble, but just then the bell rang and one of the freshmen teachers, some new lady, came strolling through the hall, lifting an eyebrow of her own.

"Gentlemen? Don't you have class?" She asked, and the socs scattered. Turning, I threw an arm around Johnny's shoulder and walked the kids to their classes before going to mine. Johnny didn't have many socs in his class, but Pony was in smart classes, so he had more. We tried to keep eyes on the kid between classes, but there wasn't much we could do while he was in class.

I wanted to ask Ponyboy if he needed a ride home after school, but he had spent lunch in the library. I'd peeked inside and found him at a back table, reading some book, and had decided to leave him alone. If the weird kid wanted to read instead of eat, I guessed that was his business. Instead, I gave Johnny a ride to the DX where we found a somewhat subdued Soda, but Steve was the same, so I figured they had just stayed out too late the night before. We all ate sandwiches and I filled up my car before going back to school, half paying attention to the rest of my classes, then tried to find the kid to give him a ride home.

Ponyboy was nowhere to be seen, though, and, assuming the kid either had something to do after school or just wanted to walk, I gave Johnny a ride home and then grabbed a six pack, carrying it over to Darry's. Dallas and Steve met me there, and we all played cards for a while. I tried to ask Steve what was up with Sodapop, but he just shrugged. "No idea, man. He's been acting weird."

"Something going on with Sandy?" Dallas asked. He'd just broken things off with his girl, even though he hadn't really told anyone. I figured he didn't need to. They broke up and got back together more than anyone I knew. She'd cheat on him, and other times he'd see a girl behind her back…so I was sure they'd get back together again at some point.

"Hell if I know." He grimaced a little, and I wondered if he'd asked Sodapop the same thing and had gotten turned down.

"Where's the kid?" Dallas asked.

"Which one?" I wondered, taking a long drink of beer.

"The little one." Dallas clarified. Steve grinned.

"Kid disappeared after school. " Steve told him. "Two-Bit was going to give him a ride but the kid was nowhere to be found."

"Hm." Dal grimaced. "Didn't say where he was going?"

"Nope. Didn't say nothing to me." I shrugged. I could tell Dal was worried, even though he'd never say it out loud, and I'll admit, I was too. Still, I couldn't exactly tail the kid. "He'll probably be home soon. Kid never goes anywhere."

I wasn't sure that was true…sometimes he walked home on his own or would disappear after school. I always assumed he was going to the library or the movies or something. I didn't know if it was because he wasn't used to having friends or if he just didn't want to sit around with us all day, especially since the kid never drank. He was kind of crap at poker, but he seemed to have fun when we all played.

Johnny showed up right before Darry and Sodapop, and Darry immediately asked where the kid was. Dallas grinned at the question, shrugging. "Don't know. These two lost him."

Darry lifted an eyebrow, staring at him, and I rolled my eyes. "We didn't lose him. He just disappeared after school. Johnny, any idea where the kid went?"

"He didn't say nothing to me," Johnny told us with a shrug, dropping onto the sofa beside me and Dallas. I looked at him a little closer to see if he was lying, but he didn't seem to be hiding nothing. Soda headed straight to the kitchen, getting started on dinner, while Darry gave him a look before kicking his recliner. Steve rolled his eyes, jumping out of Darry's chair and letting him sit down. I offered him a beer that he downed, sighing and dropping his head back on the headrest.

"Long day?" I asked. He just grunted, mouth twitching a little.

"Long day." He agreed.

"What's for dinner, Sodapop!?" I called, almost able to hear him roll his eyes from the other room.

"Why don't you go home and make your own food?" He didn't quite snap, but he was close. I lifted an eyebrow at Steve who shrugged, obviously not about to jump in. I didn't rise to the bait, just took another drink of my beer and grinned at the kitchen doorway, even though Soda couldn't se me.

"Shit, Soda, my mom might drop dead of a heart attack if she walked in on me cooking."

"Bet it's not the worst thing she's ever walked in on you doing," Steve muttered, and Dallas chuckled, jumping to his feet and grabbing a cigarette, stepping out onto the back porch. Steve joined him after a second, turning the radio down as he passed. Darry always said we listened to it too loud, but he hadn't yelled at us yet…I guess Steve was just trying to shut it off before he got the chance. Darry looked awful tired...I knew he worked the next day but thought we could maybe all do something Sunday. Have the kid come over and actually stay…grill out or something, even though it was getting cold.

Deciding to wait until after dinner to mention it, I grabbed my own cigarette, stepping onto the back porch and letting the door slam behind me, ignoring Darry's faint reprimand. Dallas was staring at the street, glancing occasionally at the house next door. "Seen the asshole around?" I asked, lighting my own cigarette. He shook his head.

"Naw, man. Not for a couple of days." I nodded.

"Good," I growled, leaning against the porch railing. Glory, I hated that ass. The next time he laid a hand on that kid, I was gonna beat the shit out of him. Again. I opened my mouth to say something else when Steve grabbed my arm, eyes going real wide. "The hell are you…"

"Shut up! Shut up a second!" He hissed, and we both went silent. I was about to ask what the hell his problem was when I heard the familiar voice screaming.

"Help! Soda, Darry, Two-Bit, Dally! Someone, help!"

Reaching back and slamming my fist against the screen door, I yanked it open, ignoring the look Dallas was giving me. "Guys! The kid's in trouble!" I shouted, then took off after Dallas and Steve who had already started running. I didn't even have to look back to know that Soda and Darry were hot on my heels.


	25. Jumped

**Jumped**

The bright lights of the movie house made me flinch, and I rubbed my eyes until I saw stars. Yawning a little and draining the last of my Pepsi, I waited until the other people here for the movie had mostly left before standing, grabbing my empty tub of popcorn and the cup with only a few cubes of ice left and carried them over to the trash, nodding to the guy with a broom whose job it was to clean the theater and headed out into the chilly air outside.

I was mostly feeling better, despite a lingering cough that didn't seem to want to let go. I ignored it for the most part, although it had been an issue a few days before at track practice. My lungs had seized up a little when I'd started running, and even Two-Bit had been able to tell from the bleachers that I wasn't doing my best. So he'd dragged me back to the Curtis house and had insisted I rest. He was acting like my dad or my big brother or something, but I didn't mind much. It was good of him to care, I guess. No one else ever had.

When I was a kid, I'd gotten sick lots of times, mostly while I was staying with my grandfather. My mom had never been real good at taking care of me even when I wasn't sick, so I'd almost hoped that he would be better…that he'd care or something. But he'd just told me to keep it down the first time I'd woken up coughing with a cold, and had ordered me to clean up the mess when I'd thrown up in the bathroom. So I'd learned pretty early on not to let other people know I was sick. I'd figured the guys I was now spending a lot of time with wouldn't much care. I'd apparently been wrong.

Soda and Darry had been the best, but all the guys were now looking after me, especially Steve and Two-Bit at school. Johnny too. Johnny was actually the one who'd stuck around the most, finding me between classes or coming with me to the library at lunch and working on his homework. Sometimes we'd work on stuff together, and I'd help him out with English while he looked over my math. He was awful good at math. Science too, even though he was in chemistry and I was in biology.

My classes were full of those rich kids, the socs, and more and more, they'd started bugging me. It started with laugher and whispers, which was no big deal…that's what I told myself. I was used to people pointing and laughing at me. It had been the main form of communication at my old school. So it didn't bother me anymore. But then it had moved onto spitballs and the occasional foot stuck out in the aisle when I walked by.

Then there was the muttered 'greaser' as they passed me in the hallway, the shoulders that knocked against mine…and finally Two-Bit had caught one of them harassing me and Johnny, and he'd made the guy back off. But Two-Bit couldn't always be with me…at some point, there was a chance one of them would catch me alone. And then it would be just like the first night I'd met them in that lot.

After school was out, I'd gone straight to the movies. I'd spent a lot of time with the guys over the last week, and even though I really liked hanging out with them, I didn't want them to think I was gonna get clingy or something. I could hang out by myself…I did it all the time. I spent a lot of nights at Darry and Soda's house, but I thought I'd give them some time without me and catch a movie on my own. Then I planned on going home and sleeping in my own room.

I'd tried to focus on the movie, but I kept going back to Sodapop…Sodapop, who had assured me again and again that I was like their family. That I was always welcome and I had my own room and they were all my friends. And I believed them! Really…they were my friends. I'd never had friends before but I believed them. They were my friends. They'd have my back if I needed them, and I guess if they needed anything, I'd do my best to help, despite probably not being able to do anything. But even though I knew that they were my friends, I also knew that people tended to get tired of me. My mom. My grandfather. My uncle…although my uncle had never actually wanted me. And everyone at my old school…I was really good at getting people to turn against me. So I had to make sure they didn't get tired of me.

The movie was good. Paul Newman was real tuff, and the story was interesting. I just kept thinking about Soda. Something was wrong…he'd been real quiet over the last couple of days. I saw him in the morning for breakfast and usually he was almost chipper in the mornings. Over the last couple of days, though, he'd been quieter than normal. He'd never snapped at Steve once. Not me…he was always nice to me. But something was wrong. It was none of my business…I knew that much. Still, it was bugging me. He'd been great to me, and I wanted to help if I can.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice the car tailing me as I headed home from the movies. I should have been paying attention. I should have been watching. I was usually real good at watching my back. I'd had to watch my own back for years…there weren't socs at my old school…not exactly, but mean kids were everywhere. Sometimes they'd follow me home and jump me in an alley or something. That was when I'd learned to find places to hide around town. That way I could hide from my family and from the jerks who wanted to torment me.

The socs had been bugging me more and more and even though I was sure Two-Bit and Steve were keeping them away from me as best they could, they couldn't always be around. I ate lunch with them or spent it in the library, and I had gym with Steve, but otherwise, I rarely saw them when we were actually at school. Sometimes they'd find me between classes, but there wasn't always time.

Gym with Steve was usually okay. I was a fast runner, and Steve was pretty good too, so we stuck together during laps and whatever sports the coach forced us into doing. Sometimes the socs would try to gang up on us in class when we had team sports, but there were enough greasers around to back us up. It was strange…I wondered when I'd started thinking of myself as a greaser.

The car was tailing me pretty close, but my mind was on Sodapop. And the guys. My uncle…the socs at school. I had a lot of crap to worry about. It wasn't until the car was pulling up right alongside me that I realized what was happening. Turning and finding a Mustang pulling up to the curb, full of rich kids with big grins and flasks, I froze for a second too long, my heart dropping. Then, just as they climbed out of their car, I was running.

I only made it a few steps before someone tackled me, and I hit the concrete hard. Not letting myself feel the pain of my hands scraping the concrete and the dull throb of my forehead where I assumed I was bleeding. Instead, I bucked and kicked and punched, thrashing desperately and doing my best to shove the guy off me. He let me turn around until I was on my back, and then two more of them had my arms pinned while the one sitting on my stomach was punching me in the face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my arms free, and when he'd finally finished hitting me, I spit blood in his face.

He grinned, not getting angry. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. My whole chest went tight and I froze as he brought the blade up to my throat, his grin feral. "Hey greaser." I needed to yell for someone…I couldn't fight all of them. Heck, I could barely fight one of them. He had a knife and I was actually going to die. "I think you need a haircut." He gripped my hair with one hand, yanking too hard, and my head throbbed. I wanted to spit at him again, but that knife was really close to my face. "What do you think, guys? How about we give this greaser a haircut." Honestly, if he wanted to cut my hair, that was the least of my problems.

Then the knife went down to my throat, pressing gently into my skin. I flinched when it stung, and I felt blood drip down my neck. "How about I start that haircut right below the jaw?" And then I was screaming.

"Help! Soda, Darry, Two-Bit, Dally! Someone, help!" I started fighting again, knowing that I was increasing the chances that the knife would slip and cut my throat for real, but I didn't care. I strained against the people holding my arms down, screaming as loud as I could and not sure if the guys could hear me. But if ever there was a time that I wished the gang would show up, it was now! They kept holding me down against the concrete sidewalk and I wondered as I bucked and screamed, kicking my feet and trying to knock the guy off of me why no adults were helping. I was on the sidewalk. Sure, we were close to an alley, but people were driving by! People were close…they could hear me. They had to. Why was no one helping?

I felt the knife nick my neck once more, but the guys didn't let go. Instead, they just tightened their grip, the knife still too close. "Shut him up!" One of them shouted, and I heard a car drive by. What the hell was wrong with people? These guys could kill me on the street and no one would care?! I brought up a knee, attempting to get the guy off me before a dirty rag that smelled like oil was shoved into my mouth. Choking around the disgusting rag, I tried to scream, but it came out as more of a whimper.

The sound of running footsteps came just a few seconds later, and then the soc was off me, and I grabbed the rag from my mouth, throwing it onto the sidewalk beside me and coughing, stared dazedly up at the sky. Gasping for breath for a second, I glanced over and found Darry and Sodapop and the rest of the guys all chasing after the socs. Darry managed to get a hold of one, slamming a fist into his face, and Steve half-tackled another, shoving him down onto the sidewalk.

The socs managed to get to their car, taking off down the road, while the guys all chased after them. I wiped a hand down my face, sighing and sitting up. Darry was the first to turn back toward me, hurrying over and crouching on the sidewalk next to me. "Kiddo? You okay?" He asked, reaching out and touching my cheek. I brought a hand up to my throat, flinching when it stung. I had two cuts on my neck, both of them dripping blood. My fingers were smeared with it, and Darry handed me a clean rag from his back pocket.

"Yeah. Fine." I muttered, wiping my eyes quickly and feeling like an idiot. I was crying in front of Darrel Curtis after getting punched a couple of times. Surely these guys had gotten a lot worse than that. Heck, so had I! The last time they'd saved me, I'd gotten worse than this. And now I was crying. I mean, I had that last time too, but I'd had a concussion or something. And sure, I was a little dizzy, but I didn't think I had a concussion. "Sorry." I mumbled as an afterthought, looking away from Darry who put a hand on my shoulder.

"You're alright, Pone." He squeezed my shoulder as Sodapop loped over, crouching on my other side and patting me on the back, the two of them blocking me from the view of anyone walking by.

"Pony?" He asked, leaning in close. I glanced over at the other guys who were all standing back, giving me some space.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I rubbed my eyes, sniffing and hating myself.

"It's alright, Pony. They ain't gonna hurt you no more." He assured me quietly, reaching up and ruffling my hair. He was grinning a little, and I swallowed back the lump in my throat, grinning back.

"Here." Steve came to sit on the sidewalk beside us, holding out a cigarette that he lit for me, and I took a long drag, closing my eyes on the inhale and then blowing it out. Immediately, I felt a little calmer.

"Thanks."

"Sure thing, kid. You okay?"

"Fine." Dallas and Johnny came and sat next to us on the ground with Two-Bit, all of us huddled around on the sidewalk, and a shopkeeper came out, sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store and giving us a dirty look. So now he noticed us.

"Those the same guys that got you last time?" Dallas asked, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Don't know." I shrugged. "I couldn't tell." I couldn't remember the guys from the night I'd met the gang. It had been pretty dark and I'd barely been able to see their faces. Dally grunted, looking unhappy with my answer, but I didn't have any answers.

When I finished smoking the cigarette, Sodapop was the first one up, holding out a hand. The other guys all stood as well, and I grabbed Soda's hand, letting him pull me up. "You good?" He asked softly.

"I'm good." He grinned, ruffling my hair, and we all headed back toward Soda and Darry's house, Soda's arm around my shoulder.

"Hey, what were you doing walking by yourself, kid?" Steve wondered, hands shoved in his pockets.

I lifted an eyebrow, looking from him to Two-Bit to Soda who were all apparently waiting for an answer. "What?" I asked.

"Why were you walking by yourself?" He repeated. I shook my head, still not getting it. "Why didn't you call one of us to walk with you?" He finally clarified, looking torn between amusement and irritation. I just shrugged, not sure exactly what to say to that.

"Where were you, anyway?" Two-Bit wondered. "I tried to find you after school to give you a ride, but you disappeared."

"I went to a movie," I told him, confusion obvious in my tone. What did they care?

"Next time, call someone to walk with you. You shouldn't be walking alone." Darry told me, his tone kind of sharp, but he reached out and ruffled my hair, giving me a half smile and tugging me close for a second. It was kind of annoying...I was used to doing whatever I wanted. Aaron didn't care. Neither had my grandfather or my mother. I came and went as I pleased, and I had to fight the urge to tell him that. But I knew why he was saying it...it was the first time anyone had ever cared enough to want to keep tabs on me.

"He's right. Any of us would." Two-Bit grinned, following behind us into Darry and Soda's house. Any of them would. They would come to the movie house and walk home with me. Just so no socs would bug me or jump me. And they'd come when I'd yelled for help. People had been passing on the street and driving by and working in their shops, but it had been a group of guys that had been looking after me ever since I moved in that had come to help me.

A pot of pasta was on the stove and Sodapop turned the burner on again…apparently I'd interrupted them making dinner. I started to apologize but figured he'd just wave me off, so I took a seat on the sofa when Darry prompted me to, then let him put a band-aid on a cut on my temple. He wiped my neck too, flinching.

"That's kind of deep, kiddo. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," I assured him, grinning a little.

"Alright, Pone." He patted me on the shoulder, and Dallas and Johnny came to sit on the sofa beside me.

"I was gonna head to the movies tonight," Dally told the group. "Anyone wanna come? Pony, you sick of movies yet?" I shook my head.

"Sure, I'll come." I looked around him at Johnny who nodded.

"Me too."

"I might stop by." Two-Bit put in, holding a beer that he took a long swig of.

After dinner, I grabbed my backpack and did some homework in the room Sodapop kept saying was mine. I assumed that him and Steve were gonna go out do something…they hung out a lot, going to poker games and races and stuff. But after the others had left, I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water and passed Sodapop on the sofa, idly flipping through the channels on the TV. Darry's bedroom door was closed, so I guessed he was asleep or something. Maybe just hanging out in his room. He probably got sick of being around other people all the time. I could understand that.

I got my glass of water, grabbing a soda for Soda, holding it out as I sat beside him on the couch. "Hey. Thanks, kiddo." I shrugged.

"They're yours," I told him, and he chuckled.

"You can have one too, you know. What's mine is yours, kiddo." He took a swig of his coke then leaned in a little. "How's the…" He trailed off, gesturing toward my black eye and the rest of my face. Grinning, I shrugged again.

"It's fine." He hummed, not looking convinced.

"You want some Aspirin?"

"Nah. I'm okay." I hesitated, then sat back against the arm of the sofa so I could look at him. "You wanna come to the movies with us?"

"That's okay, kiddo." He told me, his smile soft, then turned back to the TV. "I think I'm going to hang out here, tonight." Hesitating again for a long minute, I did my best to gather some courage. I didn't butt into the personal lives of other people…even if something was bothering him, it was none of my business.

But Sodapop had butted into my life. He'd stepped in even when I hadn't wanted him too…made sure I was okay and giving me a place to stay and keeping me safe from Aaron. I also thought he might have done something to Aaron. The guy hadn't bugged me for a while…not since Sodapop had come home with bloody knuckles. Since before I'd been sick.

I took a deep breath, then another, gathering my courage, then turned back to the TV. I couldn't do it. Couldn't ask Sodapop what was wrong when it was absolutely none of my business. None. They were real nice to me but I wasn't actually family. I didn't live here. I didn't belong here. Wiping my eyes and sighing, I watched Soda flip past a game show. Sodapop had been there for me, even when I hadn't wanted him there. But I didn't want to lose him. I didn't want to offend him and then he'd start getting distant and then eventually I'd be alone again.

"Are you okay?" I practically blurted it out, then cursed at myself silently. Idiot.

"Sure, kiddo." He nudged me a little, giving me a half grin, then turned back to the TV. Of course, he didn't want to talk with me about his problems. I was just some kid that lived next door. Standing from the sofa, I gave him a weak grin.

"I'm gonna…" I gestured toward the room at the back of the house. Figuring I'd get a little more homework done before meeting Dallas and Johnny at the movies, I dropped into the desk chair and pulled out my math textbook, opening it up and flipping to the page where the assignment was.

The knock on the door made me jump, and I looked up to find Sodapop leaning in the doorway. "Hey." I put my pencil down, waiting, and Soda hesitated before heading over to my bed, dropping down on the pillows. "What's up?"

He sighed, rolling over to face me. "You, uh…you know about Sandy…my girlfriend?"

"Yeah." I nodded, confused.

"I was, um…I was gonna ask her to marry me. Not now…I mean, not until I turn eighteen and can move out. Maybe get a better job, you know?"

"Sure." I shrugged.

"I think…I think she might be seeing someone else." I felt my mouth drop open and I turned the chair to face him, leaning in as his jaw clenched real tight, his eyes on the floor.

"Are…are you sure?"

"No." He admitted, giving me a weak smile and rolling over onto his back. "She's just been acting funny, you know? Not wanting to go out. Keeps saying she has plans with her mom. And she might not be lying, you know? But…" He sighed, draping an arm over his eyes. "I don't want to confront her about it."

I stood slowly from the desk chair, heading over to the bed then sitting down beside him. Reaching out a hesitant hand, I dropped it on his shoulder, and he cracked an eye open. "I'm…I'm real sorry, Soda. That sucks." He gave me another one of those weak smiles, reaching up and patting me on the shoulder. "You sure you don't want to go to the movies with us? Or…I don't know. Go to a race or something?"

"You're a real good kid, you know that?" He asked, squeezing my shoulder. "I'm glad you moved in next door." I felt my cheeks get hot and dropped my gaze. "I'm gonna hang out here. I'll be fine, Pone. Go ahead and go to the movies. Sleep here afterwards if you want. Darry's gotta work tomorrow, but maybe we can do something." I grinned, surprised at how great that sounded.

"Sure. Sounds good."

"Alright kiddo." He sat up, patting me on the back. "Go watch your movie. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."


	26. Movies

****

**Movies**

Johnny and Dallas were waiting for me outside a drug store a few blocks away from Darry and Sodapop's house. Dallas leaned against the building, smoking a cigarette, and as I approached, he held one out to me, lighting it for me and nodding when I thanked him. "You doing okay?" Johnny asked quietly, nudging me with his shoulder and turning his back to Dally a little like he was somehow having a private conversation with me. Dally turned away a little, staring out at the street where a car drove by too slowly, but if they were socs looking to mess with us, they just kept going.

"Fine," I assured him, shrugging a little and scratching the back of my head. The last thing I wanted was for them to think I was a baby or something. Sure, I'd gotten roughed up a little, but they all had. At some point or another, every one of them had told me stories about getting beat up by the rich kids in the area, and once Dallas had even had to go to the hospital after fighting alongside Tim Shepherd, so I wasn't about to whine about a couple of little cuts. Besides, I'd already been beaten up worse than this.

It had been scary, though, not that I wanted to talk about it. I'd just been walking home. It hadn't been like the time before when I'd jumped in the middle of someone else's fight, and they'd retaliated by just about killing me. I hadn't been bugging anybody…just going home. They'd beat me up for fun. That wasn't exactly anything new. Everywhere I went, people seemed to want to beat me up. Aaron. My grandfather. The kids back at my old school. Now the rich kids at this one. The only difference…this time when I called for help, someone came. A lot of someones. A lot of tough, mean someones who, since I'd moved here, always seemed to have my back.

Just like earlier, when that guy, Randy, had shoved Johnny in the hallway, I'd thought there was going to be a fight. And I'd have to help, because Johnny was my friend and I wasn't about to let someone hurt him when I could help, and then I'd get beat up and someone would call Aaron, and I didn't care what Soda and Steve said, there would be consequences for getting kicked out of school for fighting. Painful consequences that would probably leave me bedridden for a while. I thought back to the last time I'd gotten in trouble in school…I'd gotten suspended for a couple of days for defending myself. Of course, no one cared that I hadn't thrown the first punch.

I'd been too sore to move for two days, curled up in the bed and peeing blood. I was pretty sure Aaron had been kind of worried that he'd gone too far and had nearly killed me, because once he stuck his head in and asked if I was gonna make it or something. I'd given a weak nod, too exhausted and sick to get smart, which was likely a good thing. No way he would have gone easy on me had I mouthed off to him.

I was pulled out of that thought when Dallas dropped his cigarette on the ground, putting it out with his heel, and Johnny and I followed suit, ignoring the glare from the guy inside the drugstore who would probably have to clean those up. I felt a twinge of guilt, but not enough to bend down and pick them up myself. Johnny and Dally thought I was weird enough without cleaning up trash on the street. Following Dallas to a burger place down the street, I dug in my pockets, wishing against all hope that I had some money. Even a quarter or something…but of course, my pockets were empty.

I wondered if I'd be able to get a job. Sure, I was only fourteen, but maybe a store needed someone to sweep or something. Or I could work at a movie theater. Sell popcorn. I had time after school, and if it meant earning money, I'd quit track. It wasn't like I could afford the shoes I'd need pretty soon anyway. Mine had holes in the toes and were about to fall apart. But I didn't have the seven or eight dollars to buy a pair of good running shoes, and stealing that much from Aaron all at once was guaranteed to get me killed.

'You could ask Darry.' The thought came out of the blue and nearly had me flushing with shame as Dallas ordered us all cokes. I couldn't imagine a world where I'd ever ask Darrel Curtis for eight dollars. Or one dollar. Or a quarter. Hell, the fact that he'd helped me pay for my groceries was humiliating enough. If I started asking for money, I'd really be a charity case. I couldn't think of a better way to make them start getting tired of me than to ask them for money.

"What do you want, kid?" I blinked at Dally who was looking somewhat impatient, and I felt my stomach drop.

"I, uh…I'm fine, Dally." He rolled his eyes, turning to the girl holding a notepad and chomping on pink bubblegum.

"Give him a cheeseburger and fries. Johnny?"

"Same." He nodded.

"Three cheeseburgers." She nodded, heading back to the kitchen, and I turned to Dally.

"I ain't got any money, Dally," I told him quietly, ashamed and frustrated all at the same time. He looked a little sorry then but rolled his eyes again.

"Don't worry about it, kid. You can pay me back later."

"Think anybody around here would hire a fourteen-year-old?" I wondered. He shrugged.

"If you lied about your age, maybe. Guess could pass for sixteen." He didn't look all that convinced, though. I wasn't offended. I knew I looked young.

"You could get him a job racing horses, Dal," Johnny suggested, and Dally chuckled.

"Yeah. Right. Kid, you ever been on a horse?" He wondered. I shook my head.

"Never even been in the same room as a horse," I told him, and his eyes widened.

"Shoot, kid. We can fix that, at least." Nervously, I tore apart a napkin on the table, worrying it between my fingers.

"Nah, that's alright."

"They ain't nothing to be scared of." He told me, mouth turned up a little like he was teasing, but not being mean or nothing. "They're big, but they won't hurt you long as you treat 'em right. I'll take you over there sometime and you can try." It was nice of him to offer, but I was too nervous about offending him to turn him down, so I just nodded.

"Sure. Thanks, Dal." The nickname, an even shorter one than the one I usually used, just slipped out, but he didn't even seem to notice, despite how I tensed, waiting for him to tell me off. Instead, he grabbed a coke from the waitress who brought the glasses over, draining half his glass grinning at the girl.

"Keep 'em coming, will ya?" She nodded, turning and dodging the hand he shot out, presumably to pat her on the butt or something. Apparently, she knew him. Most people around town seemed to. Heck, most people around town seemed kind of scared of him, which I understood. He had a short temper and a mean, cunning look in his eyes most of the time. But he'd always been nice to me. I couldn't help waiting for the day he wouldn't, though, and wondered if that would be the thing that led to me getting kicked out of this gang. I hoped not. Meanwhile, I'd be on my best behavior and try not to piss him off.

We wolfed down the burgers, then the cokes that the girl kept bringing us, rolling her eyes at Dally's blatant attempts at flirting all the while. When we were done, and Dally had paid the bill, we all headed over to the movie house that was only about four blocks away. Greasers drove by in their busted up cars, sometimes honking and waving at Dally, or giving me looks I didn't understand. We passed a few guys that stopped Dally to talk to us, throwing a greeting at me and Johnny, then going back to Dallas. They were rougher looking guys most of the time, but they seemed friendly enough to me. One asked about me like I wasn't even there, and Dally leaned an elbow onto my shoulder, grinning.

"This here's Ponyboy Davis. Lives next door to Darry and Sodapop. He's practically family." There was something in his voice that made me shiver a little. The way he said it…like a threat. He might as well have said, 'don't mess with this kid or else.' The greaser nodded, grinning down at me.

"Yeah, I dig. I thought Tim said something about those two taking in some kid." He crossed his arms, and I felt a twinge of annoyance when I realized he was maybe only a year older than me. He was mean looking though, with slick hair and a scar on his forehead. "Where you from?"

"Kansas," I told him simply, and he hummed, nodding.

"We got family down there." He told me, then turned abruptly back to Dally, the two of them going back to talking about socs or something, and I moved to stand by Johnny who was watching everyone warily.

"What's up with these guys?" I wondered, keeping my voice pitched low.

"That's Curly Shepherd, Tim's brother. These guys are all friends of Dally's. Darry don't like 'em much, but we all fight together if we need backup. They're good guys to have on your side, but they'll get you into trouble if you let them."

Vowing to keep away from Tim Shepherd's friends, despite the fact that he'd been nice to me, I waited for Dally to finish his conversation, and then we all entered the movie house, Dally paying for us and even buying popcorn that Johnny held and I took a few bites out of. We sat in the middle since it was practically empty…except for two girls sitting in the very front row.

Dally was quiet for a little while, watching the movie for a bit and reaching over me for popcorn. I tried to focus on the movie, which wasn't great but wasn't bad either. Just some beach flick with pretty girls and a couple of songs, but just as I was starting to lose myself in the movie, Dally stood up, making his way up a few rows and sitting in the chair right behind the red-headed girl.

I couldn't make out everything he was saying, but I caught enough, feeling my cheeks turn red. I stared down at my popcorn, suddenly wishing I hadn't come, or that Sodapop had come. Would he sit and listen while Dally talked that way to some girls who were getting real stiff, leaning forward as though to block him out.

The redhead turned then, looking upset. "Leave us alone. Please? Please, just be nice and leave us alone." She practically begged, and I wanted to beg too. Johnny glanced over at me, grimacing and nudging my shoulder. I tried to smile and look back at the movie, but it wasn't so interesting anymore. Not with those girls so upset and Dally bugging them. I hated to see a girl upset.

"He always do this?" I asked while Dally told the girls he was never nice. I didn't believe that. He was nice to me. He was nice to Johnny. He looked out for us. But now he was different. Kind of…kind of an asshole. The girls wanted him to leave him alone. They hadn't been doing anything. They were trying to watch a movie. Just like I hadn't been doing anything, just walking home.

"Sometimes." He told me with a shrug, looking uncomfortable. "Usually when him and his girl break up. I think she was two-timing him or something." I nodded, grabbing some popcorn and wondering fi I should just split. I could probably hang out with Sodapop. It was possible that Steve had come back to drag him off somewhere, but maybe we could find something to do if he was still around. Or maybe Darry had come back. Either way, I was getting more and more uncomfortable, until the redhead girl whirled around in her seat.

"Get lost, hood!" She all but screamed, and I watched him jerk back, worried he was gonna hit her or something. Surely then I'd have to leave…I couldn't sit around while he hurt some girl. But could I stand up to him? I doubted it.

He said something I didn't quite hear over the movie, but I watched him get up, hands shoved in his pockets, ambling down the aisle and nodding to us as he passed down the aisle. Johnny handed me the bucket of popcorn, taking a drink of his coke, and then the redhead turned around, glaring back at us. "Are you going to start in on us too?" She snapped, and I blinked, putting the handful of popcorn back into the bucket.

"No," I told her, blinking and glancing over at Johnny.

She hummed, then nodded. "No…you don't really look the type." She seemed to soften, smiling a little back at us. I wondered what that meant...what this girl was getting at.

"Why don't you come sit with us?" Her friend asked, smiling too. "You can protect us." I glanced over at Johnny who shrugged, grinning.

"Sure, might as well." He told them, both of us standing and moving to sit beside them, me beside the redhead and Johnny on my other side. I had to admit, I wasn't super comfortable around girls. They never talked to me and I avoided them whenever possible. Back in my old school, I'd hear them whispering about me in the hallways, sometimes laughing at me for wearing old crappy clothes or getting called on in class or whatever they could think of to ridicule me for. But these girls were smiling, seeming at ease with us.

After introductions were made, and they asked how old we were, the four of us making a little small talk, we went back to watching the movie. It was only a few minutes later that Dallas came back, carrying sodas and handing one to Marcia, the brown haired girl, and Cherry, the redhead. Marcia took a drink of hers immediately, while Cherry considered her drink of a minute before turning and throwing it into his face.

Dally spluttered for a minute, then put a hand on her chair, eyes narrow, when Johnny caught my eye. I found myself shrinking back, jaw tight as I stared down at the ground. He was mad. He was going to hurt her. And I was too much of a coward to do anything about it.

"Leave her alone, Dal." I jumped, looking up to find Dallas staring at Johnny, jaw dropping.

"What?" He asked, speaking slowly and carefully. "What did you say to me, you little shit?"

"Just…leave her alone." He told him, voice soft and weak, but still there. I stared up at Dally, feeling my eyes go wide. For a minute, I thought he was going to hit him. Or her. Or all of us. Instead, he scoffed, rolling his eyes and storming away.

Cherry thanked him, her voice soft, and then we watched the movie, me passing them the popcorn. It was quiet for a while between us, all of us staring at the screen. Then someone put their hand on my shoulder and one on Johnny's. "Hey, greaser!" We all jumped, me and Johnny both going real pale, and I felt my throat close up. Johnny had his eyes shut, mouth open as he gasped for breath. I was stiff, about to jerk away, when the person leaned in, grinning at us, and I realized it was Two-Bit.

"Sorry, kids." He ruffled my hair and patted Johnny on the shoulder. He grinned at the girls then, asking for an introduction, and Johnny took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and giving a shaky grin of his own.

"Hey, Two-Bit. This is Cherry and Marcia. Dally was bugging them, so we came up and sat with them." He nodded to the girls.

"Yeah? Where is Dally?" He wondered.

"That's what I'd like to know." We all turned to find Tim Shepherd standing in the aisle of the movie house. Wondering if we'd ever get to watch the movie, I decided to let Two-Bit take care of this conversation. Tim had been nice to me, but I had no hopes that would last if he was mad at Dally and I tried getting involved. Johnny was slumping in his seat beside me, and I glanced at the girls who also looked worried.

Two-Bit took care of Tim, assuring him that Dally wasn't there anymore, and then the movie was pretty much over. I didn't mind. It hadn't been great anywhere, and I was ready to go home. Or…to Sodapop and Darry's house. I was tired and there had been too much yelling and threatening for a while. I was ready for a nap. Or a talk with Sodapop.

Since the girls had only come to the movies because their boyfriends had gotten drunk, Two-Bit suggested we walk them to his place and then drive them home. Two-Bit ended up walking with Marcia in front of us while Johnny and I somehow ended up hanging back with Cherry. We were both pretty quiet, and she carried most of the conversation, asking us questions and stuff even though we all went to school together and surely she would have had other opportunities to get to know us. Still, I tried not to hold it against her. She was probably rich and hung out with her rich, socy friends. But she kind of reminded me of those girls at my old school…the ones that pointed and laughed at me in the halls and refused to be at the same table as me at lunch.

"So, Ponyboy, what's your family like?" Cherry asked suddenly, turning to me, her smile curious. I shoved my hands into my pockets, shrugging defensively.

"It's just me and my uncle," I told him simply. I had no idea who this girl was...I didn't want to give her my whole life story. Or any of it really. I didn't trust her. She was pretty and seemed nice enough, but plenty of pretty, nice seeming girls had tormented me back in Kansas. 

"Oh…" She got quiet, then moved a little closer. I felt myself stiffen, and Johnny gave me a look, probably looking at me worried or something. "What's he like?"

"He's fine." I muttered, wishing I could go home. I didn't want to make small talk with two random girls. I didn't want to go with Two-Bit while he walked two random girls home, despite the fact that they seemed kind of nice. I wanted to go home.

"Cherry!" We all stopped when Marcia did, and for a moment, I was grateful that I wouldn't have to keep trying to hold a conversation with a girl I didn't know. Then she kept talking. "Look what's coming."

A blue Mustang was coming toward us, and Johnny went stiff beside me. "What are we going to do?" Marcia murmured.

Cherry sighed, crossing her arms. "Stand here. There isn't much else we can do."

"Who is it, the FBI?" Two-Bit asked, chuckling, but neither of the girls so much as smiled.

"No. Randy and Bob." She told him, her voice bleak. Briefly, I wondered why she was dating this guy if she didn't even seem to like him. My brain flashed back to Sandy and Sodapop and I wondered if Sandy liked Soda. I knew he wasn't like the asshole socs we'd met at school…he didn't seem mean like Dally apparently could be either. Why would she want to cheat on him? He seemed like the nicest guy around.

"Your boyfriends?" Johnny asked softly.

"Maybe they don't see us." Marcia offered, but that hope was dashed as soon as the car rolled to a stop, the two front doors opening and two socs, one familiar and one not, climbed out. Surprisingly, they didn't even seem to notice us and instead started talking to the girls, trying to assure them that they weren't all that drunk or something. I glanced over at Johnny, taking a step back and wishing I could just leave while the girls argued with them.

It wasn't until Two-Bit spoke up that I realized they'd apparently made some kind of reference to us. "Hey! Who you calling bums, pal?" He snapped, taking an aggressive step forward, grabbing the cigarette from his mouth and dropping it on the ground.

"Listen, greasers, we got four more of us in the back seat..." The soc…not Randy, so Bob, I guess, told him.

"Then pity the back seat." I could hear the smirk in Two-Bit's voice, and I hoped this wasn't about to turn into another fight.

"If you're looking for a fight..." The soc snapped, leaning in. So much for that. My stomach dropped, jaw clenching. I didn't want to fight. Not again. Not after the last time I'd jumped into a fight that had nothing to do with me.

"You mean if I'm looking for a good jumping, you outnumber us, so you'll give it to us? Well..." Two-Bit leaned down, grabbing an empty beer bottle, busting it on the ground, then turned and tossed it to me. Catching it by the neck, I gripped it too tightly, feeling my hands shake. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to cut anyone. But I also didn't want to end up beat all to hell again, barely conscious on Darry Curtis's couch. So Johnny reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pocket knife, and Two-Bit pulled out his switchblade, flipping it open and pointing it at the soc. "Try it, pal."

Before anyone could make a move, Cherry was jumping between us. "No! Stop! Just…wait a minute. We'll go with you, okay?" She practically begged, almost like she had with Dally, and I wondered if this guy treated her any different. If I weren't such a coward, I might have felt bad for her. Honestly, though, I had enough problems of my own without worrying about some random soc girl.

"Why?" Two-Bit scoffed. "We ain't scared of them."

"I can't stand fights... I can't stand them..." I guess we kind of had that in common. For a moment, she looked at me, eyes sad and almost worried, and I wondered what she wanted me to say? That I wouldn't use this bottle? That she didn't have any reason to be scared of us? Because that would be a lie. I remembered how it felt to have someone hitting me over and over…how it felt to have Darry carry me, only half conscious and feeling nothing but pain, and if using a broken bottle to protect myself could stop that from happening again, then I'd use the broken bottle.

The girls climbed into the car with their boyfriends, somehow fitting despite the four other people in the backseat, and Johnny put a hand on my shoulder. "You alright, Pone?" He asked quietly. I nodded, throwing the broken bottle into the bushes by the sidewalk.

"Yeah." I lied, hands shoved into my pockets, stomach still turning.

"Alright, kids." Two-Bit reached out, ruffling my hair, but paused when I flinched. I'd thought I was getting better…but one encounter with a couple of assholes like the ones that had nearly killed me had me undone. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go to bed and hide and never look at another soc again. If it weren't for the friends I'd made here, I'd hate this place more than Kansas. "Pony?" He asked, looking concerned for the first time.

"Let's just go." Johnny offered, patting me on the back, and together we headed back towards Darry's house.


	27. The Calm

****

**The Calm**

It wasn't a long walk back to Darry's place, but in the dark, every car that drove by had me tensing up, hands in fists at my sides as I walked beside Johnny. He'd glance over at me every once in a while, nudging me with his shoulder sometimes, and I'd give a half smile, trying to assure him that everything was okay…that I was fine. That I wasn't scared to death of getting beat up again by socs. There was no reason for me to be scared like this…I'd been beat up before. But these guys…they were the real deal. They carried knives and beat people up for no reason, just cause we were poor. And that one had held a knife to my throat out on the street…no one had even cared.

"Alright, kids. I'm headed home. Gotta check on that little sister of mine. You guys going home?" Johnny nodded, and I did too, although I wasn't sure which home I meant. Maybe my own. Maybe Darry's. I'd be safe at Darry and Soda's, but it was getting kind of late. I didn't want to wake them. Besides, maybe Steve had gone back to get Soda and the two were doing something…or…maybe Darry was asleep in the recliner.

I brushed those thoughts away, following Johnny down the road. The sun was long gone and the only light came from the street lamps and the half-hidden moon. Occasionally a car would drive by, headlights sweeping past and illuminating us for just a second before speeding by, and every time I would tense. Beside me, Johnny kept throwing me glances that I tried to ignore. I didn't know what to tell him…how to explain. But he seemed to understand.

When we reached the empty lot by our street, I hesitated, then headed between the buildings to the crates in the corner, away from the road. Hesitating for just a second, he followed me, sitting on the ground beside me. I stretched out on the grass, head resting on my folded hands as I stared up at the stars. I liked the stars…had always liked staring up at them and finding the constellations. They were beautiful and far off and people had decided to group them into shapes that meant something. Sometimes I could find the big dipper, and once I thought I'd seen Orion's belt, but other than that, they were all a mystery to me. I supposed I could have found a book on them, but I preferred making my own shapes.

"You going to sleep at Darry's tonight?" He wondered after a while, on his back beside me as he, too, stared up at the sky.

"I don't know," I admitted softly.

"How come?" I didn't know how to answer that…didn't know how to put words to it, really. But I decided to try.

"People have done this before." I tried to explain, my voice soft. "Acted like…like…I was something to them." I felt more than saw him turn, his head moving toward me. "Back where I used to live. It, uh…didn't last long. And…I know that Sodapop and Darry aren't gonna…aren't gonna…" I trailed off, shaking my head. "It never works out well when I trust people." I finally settled on saying, closing my eyes.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Johnny told me, his tone surprising me. "I was the same…at first, you know…these guys were suddenly real protective of me and inviting me over and sitting with me at lunch. I didn't get it. Thought they were playing some kind of prank…some kind of really shitty prank. And they got it…understood that I didn't trust them. But they just kept being nice, you know?"

I snorted a little. "Yeah. I know."

"They never stopped." He shrugged. "If this was all some kind of sick joke, they're in it for the long game."

For a long time, we were quiet. Then I spoke again, gathering the courage for a few minutes before getting the words out. "I don't know what I'll do if it's a joke…if they…if they don't…" My voice broke off, and I felt him reach out, grabbing my hand.

"They wouldn't do that." He told me quietly, and I got myself to speak again. It was easier in the dark since I couldn't see his face.

"One day, Aaron's going to kill me," I whispered. It was something I'd known for so long…since I was little. "He'll…he'll go too far and he'll kill me. Use to, I didn't think I'd mind much." I felt him flinch a little but didn't look. "Now…now I want to get out. Get away from him."

"You will." He promised softly, squeezing my hand. I squeezed his back, then reluctantly let go. I sometimes forgot how great it could be to be touched without being hurt. Even after spending so much time with these guys that had never hurt me, not once, I still flinched sometimes when one of them got too close.

"What about you?" I asked softly, still staring at the sky. He knew what I was asking, and for a minute, I regretted asking. It was none of my business. But after a few long breaths, he answered.

"I don't think he'd kill me." He told me softly. "He knocks me around…him and my old lady too." He hesitated. "My mom. He and my mom." His voice went soft, dropping whatever façade he'd been putting on. "They hit me a lot. Sometimes, I think I prefer it when they hit me. Because other times they just…it's like I'm not even there."

"I love it when he acts like I'm not here," I told him, feeling my eyes heat up. "And I hate it." I knew I shouldn't be spilling my guts, not to him. Not when I didn't even know for sure if I could trust him. But the words came out anyway. "I just want him to…sometimes he…he used to…he was nice. You know? Like, for just a few minutes or even a whole day, he'd be nice. And I'm…I'm so stupid. I'd believe him. Like, he took me out for ice cream once when I got beat up at school. Said he was proud of me for fighting back. Gave the other kid a black eye and broke his nose. He was nice to me for a whole fifteen hours. Then he started drinking and it was like…that was it. He didn't even remember."

"My dad…he…he's the same," Johnny mumbled. "Sometimes they're normal. Like…just normal parents. And then…" He cut himself off. "Why the hell did they have a kid if they didn't want one?" He choked out, and I reached out again, gripping his hand. "It ain't…it ain't right to have kids if you're just going to hate them."

"My mom didn't want me either." I half-whispered, not sure why I was talking so quiet. It wasn't like anyone else was around. "She told me...before she killed herself. Hated her life and me so much she killed herself." I sniffed, rubbing irritably at my eyes, and he kept a hold of my hand. "Then my grandfather and now…my whole family hates me. And I don't…I never understood why."

"I don't think there is a 'why.'" He told me. "I think…they're all just miserable people. Just…angry, sad, miserable people that hate their lives. We just happened to be there."

I didn't know if it was true, but it made me feel better. After a minute, he dropped my hand again, and we lay side by side in silence, my eyes drooping. It had been a long day. "We want you." He told me then, just as I was drifting off. "We want you around and we don't hate you or nothing…you're pretty tuff, you know? And…I'm glad you moved in." It was just like what Sodapop had said, and just like when he'd said it, my chest got kind of tight and warm. Before I could thank him, I felt myself drift off, and I let my eyes close for good.

The next thing I knew, I was jerking awake, shivering at the cold night air, and I realized that I was only wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. The temperature had dropped even more, and I could see my breath. Glancing over beside me, I found Johnny, still asleep. I nudged him a little, elbowing him in the side, and he jerked awake, blinking tiredly at me before looking around. "Oh…did I fall asleep?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah." I sat up, rubbing my face as he did the same. "It's freezing." He nodded.

"Think Darry would mind if I slept on his couch?" I shook my head.

"Doubt it. I think I'm gonna try and sneak in my place…maybe Aaron's asleep."

"You sure? You got that room over at Darry's house."

"Yeah…I got some clothes and stuff at home. Probably need to do laundry and clean up. He'd led the place fall apart if I didn't." Johnny nodded, and I stuffed my freezing hands in my pockets. When we reached my place, I split off, going in through the front door as quietly as I could, hoping he was asleep. Turning back, I watched Johnny go next door and waited for him to disappear through their front door before closing my own.

There were beer bottles all over the floor, dripping the dark brown liquid all over the carpet in puddles, and rings covered the coffee table where he'd left bottles and cans on it. There were a few piles of dirty laundry in the comers, and for a minute I thought about going ahead and cleaning up, but instead, I headed for my room, thankful for the silent hallway and the lack of light beneath his bedroom door. I closed my own door as softly as I could, dropping down onto my bed and curling up under the covers, barely managing to kick my shoes off before falling asleep.

Slamming cabinets in the kitchen woke me in the morning. Groaning, I stared out my window, watching the sun come up and wondering how much sleep I'd gotten. Just this once, I wondered, couldn't the asshole let me sleep. Then again, I had a lot of work to do…but if he stuck around all day, I was going to get my stuff and hide. Probably at the library. I could get work done there. I thought briefly about asking one of the guys to walk me, but I decided not to bother them. The nagging voice in my head reminded me that the guys had told me they didn't mind…that they were happy to walk me. But I figured Two-Bit was probably still asleep…Dally too. Heck, the only ones who might be up were Darry and maybe Soda, most likely because they were at work.

For a few minutes, I debated. Say and risk getting a beating, or get my homework done. The work around the house needed to be done. I hated living in this dump, even more when he let it get like this, crap everywhere. Plus, I needed to do laundry. But no matter what Two-Bit and Sodapop had done, coming home late with broken skin on their knuckles, I knew that he would hurt me if I stuck around. There had been times before when I'd been safe…when it hadn't been so dangerous to be in the house with him for a while. And I just wanted to feel safe all day.

Grabbing my backpack from the floor and making sure all my stuff was inside, I pulled my window open. It was already cool outside, still chilly from the night before, but I took a long breath of the fresh air, grateful for it. I wasn't about to risk picking a fight with him, or letting him think I was trying to pick a fight with him. It would be safer to just leave…to get out while I could. I could use the bathroom and freshen up in the library bathroom. So, changing my clothes as quickly as I could, I hopped out my window, hurrying down the road with my backpack slung over my shoulder.

It wasn't too far to the library, and there was hardly anyone out early on a Saturday morning. No one really gave me much of a second glace, shop owners opening up their stores and sweeping the front porches. A few people were going to work, but I hadn't really looked at the Curtis's place to see if they were home. I needed to be careful…I trusted them more and more every day, and the thought terrified me. No matter what Johnny said, no matter how kind they were…there was a chance. A chance this could all come crumbling down. At any point, this could hurt me. They could hurt me. It would be so easy…and so painful.

I brushed that away, pushing my hair out of my eyes and making my way down the sidewalk toward the library. Wondering what time it was, I shifted the backpack on my shoulder, wishing I had a thicker jacket…or shoes that didn't have holes in them. There was a chance it would snow soon, and then I'd really be in trouble. It was getting colder every day, and I wondered what I would do when it got too cold to stay outside when he came after me. Would I go to the room Sodapop insisted was mine? Swallow my pride and sleep at Two-Bit's? Or freeze to death out in the lot? Part of me wondered if that last one would be so bad.

The library was quiet and warm, and I made myself comfortable in one of the chairs upstairs, basking in the warmth as I worked. There wasn't all that much to do…a paper for English, some questions for science, and plenty of math problems that I blew through quickly. After only about an hour, I was flipping through future chapters and finishing up things that wouldn't be due for a few weeks. It was always better to get ahead while I could.

"Thought you were gonna let one of us walk with you." I jumped at the sudden voice, familiar as it was.

"Hey, Johnny." He was leaning against a chair across from me, grinning. I grinned back, crossing my arms. "What are you doing here?" He showed me the backpack he had strapped to his shoulder.

"Figured I might as well get caught up on some homework. Think you could give me a hand?"

"Got nothing better to do," I told him with a shrug, and he chuckled, dropping into a chair across from me. For the first time in what might have been my entire life, I felt like I belonged where I was…like I was just a kid sitting at a table with my friend, working on homework together. It felt so normal. So…calm. Happy. Sitting across from Johnny Cade, I felt like I belonged there. Like I had a friend and it was the best thing in the world.

It was almost 11:30 when we finally finished up, both of us ahead on our work for the week and glad to be done. We'd made it through our readings and worksheets and I was packing my stuff up, wondering if I'd just stick around the library and read for the rest of the day when Johnny asked if I wanted to come with him and get some lunch. "I stole a dollar from my old man." He told me with a grin, packing away his own stuff into his backpack.

"Sure…I ain't got any money, but I can pay you back." I offered. He rolled his eyes, snorting as he zipped up his bag.

"Yeah, alright. Pay me back if you want. It isn't even my money." He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and I followed him downstairs, both of us heading out and making our way to a diner nearby where we ate greasy cheeseburgers and fries and chocolate milkshakes. I'd worked on homework all morning with Johnny Cade and then we went to lunch together. It was great…he wasn't acting like family or nothing, just a friend. Friends I could get used to. Maybe even trust. So I ate lunch with my friend, then the two of us headed to the abandoned lot by our houses where we played cards for a while, then, when that got boring, we snuck into the movies, just the two of us, and watched from the back. No Dallas trying to hit on unwilling girls. No socy girls trying to talk to us. Just me and my friend. Johnny Cade. And sitting next to him in a dark movie theater, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I could get used to this after all.


	29. Before

**Before**

The woman in front of me at the checkout counter was taking her sweet time counting out her change and I fought the urge to lose my temper, hands opening and close over and over at my sides, breathing deeply and trying to focus on something other than the fact that I'd just worked a twelve hour day, it was almost 8 o'clock, I hadn't eaten since noon, and Sodapop might not even have dinner ready. That last part might not even be true, I reminded myself, and my little brother was sixteen. There was no reason he shouldn't be out with his friends…heaven knows I spent enough time out with mine when I was his age. But it smarted, seeing guys my age going off to college and just…being free.

Of course, I wasn't doing myself any favors in the freedom department. What the hell was I thinking, taking responsibility for another kid? I mean…I liked the kid. I did. A lot. And taking responsibility for strays just felt like part of my typical life. But this one…this one didn't just need a place to crash for a day or two because his usual guardian was being an asshole. This one was fourteen. He needed raising still. Was I really the person to do that? I wasn't even twenty-one yet…I was only six or seven years older than the boy who sometimes slept in our spare room…in his room.

Part of me wanted to say no. It was the same part of me that, day after day as I drove to work, told me to just keep driving. To get out while I could, start over, get a job and save up for college. Sodapop would figure things out. But then I'd feel horrified as if just thinking that could get my little brother taken away. I could never do it…never abandon my little brother that relied on me. I could never be that selfish. I loved him too much…loved our parents too much. And as much as I knew my parents had wanted me to go to college, they wanted me to take care of our family more.

Hadn't they taken in strays? Dallas and Steve who basically had no parents, Johnny, whose parents were worse than having none, and Two-Bit, whose dad had split and whose mom was working herself to the bone. Hadn't they taken in every one of those kids and treated them like their own, even when they'd barely had enough money to keep me in football and keep all of us in clothes? How the hell could I justify abandoning everything they'd worked for…our family? A family of poor kids on the wrong side of town that loved each other and fought for each other.

And they would have taken Ponyboy Davis in too, no questions asked. The second we would have brought him home, covered in blood and bruises, they would have loved him and cooked for him and given him sanctuary. My dad would have gotten his old baseball bat and stood in the doorway if Aaron had come knocking, letting him know just what he thought of people that beat on little kids. My mom would have mothered him to death and damn it if the kid wouldn't have loved it. His own mother had been no prize, according to what he'd told Sodapop. He would have loved having a real mother, one that looked out for him and knew just what to say when he needed her. My eyes stung a little and I blinked hard. No use wishing for that kind of stuff.

What I was considering was crazy. Probably impossible. Why the hell would the State give me another kid, especially considering the fact that the kid already had a guardian? I was already stretched awful thin taking care of me and Sodapop and the house. And the guys. I couldn't forget the guys. Ponyboy would need clothes. Food. Attention. Rules…he was fourteen. No telling what kind of trouble he could get into without rules. Then again, he sure didn't seem to have any from Aaron, except the unspoken 'stay out of sight' one he seemed to follow pretty well. So maybe fewer rules than I was thinking. Guidance. As a twenty-year-old working two shitty jobs and a sixteen-year-old high school drop out, surely the state would see that we were the best people for that job.

No…that wasn't fair. Sodapop had a job he really liked. I hated that he'd dropped out, but he was responsible. He helped me take care of the guys and the bills and he'd been great with Ponyboy. The kid seemed to trust him more than anyone. Even now, when one of us would touch him, the kid tensed up a little, and in public, he leaned away from people. But Soda…he let Soda get the closest. Maybe Johnny too. Those two, he was comfortable with. Maybe it was because they were soft-spoken…approachable in a way I wasn't. No matter how I'd tried to be.

The kid seemed to trust me, though. Somewhat. Maybe not as much as Soda, but some. He was a good kid…smart and nice and he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. He had a chance. Ponyboy Davis could get out of this place. Have a real life. Go to college and meet a nice girl and make it better for his own family. But with Aaron as a guardian…it didn't seem possible.

"Sir?" The guy at the check out counter was staring at me, and the guy behind me sighed, making me wonder how long I'd been staring at nothing, lost in my own thoughts. Shaking my head sharply to clear it, I stepped forward, putting the box on the counter. He rung them up, barely glancing up at me. "Six dollars." I held back the flinch. That was six dollars we could use. For groceries. For clothes, since Sodapop was too tall for most of his pants, and most of my own were getting holes and were too filthy to ever get clean. For bills. Not for some stray kid to have tennis shoes. But I handed over the money anyway, not even feeling bad about it.

Over the last week, Soda had put in a little overtime to help me buy them. He insisted they were a birthday present for the kid. I'd asked when his birthday was, and he'd shrugged. "Sometime right after he moved here." Soda had told me, both of us keeping our voices down. It had been the night after the kid had gone to the movies with Dallas…the night after Tim had beaten our buddy up for slashing his tires, which, of course, was a shitty, stupid thing to have done. He'd been pissed at some girls or something…I hadn't bothered listening to the full story.

Ever since then, Ponyboy had been spending more time with Johnny, both in and out of school. The two did homework at the library and played cards at the lot. Sodapop told me they'd only been to the station once during their lunch with Two-Bit and Steve, preferring the library at school instead. He seemed to be a good influence on Johnny, helping him out with homework and keeping him away from Dallas who would do anything for him, and looked out for him, but who could also drag him into trouble sometimes.

That was the morning that Sodapop had brought it up, Ponyboy still asleep in the room we'd given him. He'd slept at his uncle's the night before but had snuck in through the window that night, crawling into bed sometime between seven, when I'd passed the open door on the way to the bathroom, and ten when I'd headed to bed and found the door shut. "Pony's real good at track." Soda had told me, glancing at me on that Monday morning while I'd been eating my egg sandwich.

"Mhm." I'd muttered, flipping past a newspaper article about Vietnam. It seemed to be the only thing in the paper these days.

"Yeah. He has a meet next week. The coach is letting him run all the races…or something." He'd shrugged. Sodapop didn't really get into sports much, so this was a surprise. I glanced up, wondering where this was going.

"That's good. He could get a scholarship if he sticks with it." There had been a long pause.

"He's practically running barefoot." I'd glanced back up from the newspaper, feeling the exhaustion already, and it was only 7 am.

"Soda…"

"I'll work some overtime. Steve wants to spend more time with Evie this week, so he's giving me some of his hours."

"Soda…"

"Come on, Dar. He needs shoes and you know his asshole uncle isn't going to buy them."

"Sodapop…"

"I bet the kid ain't never even had new shoes. Asshole probably got 'em used at the salvation army or something. He needs them. And he's part of the family now." I'd been quiet for a while, staring down at the article telling me how many kids just a little older than my brother had died in a country most of us had only heard of just a few years ago. What the hell was I supposed to do? He needed new shoes…I hadn't doubted that. But if I agreed to this…what then? New clothes? School supplies? Where exactly did this kid stand in our life? And it wasn't just for myself that I wanted to know. It wasn't fair to the kid…it wasn't fair to act like his family just sometimes. Heaven knew the kid needed more than that. Deserved more than that.

But I'd brushed all that aside, agreeing to help Sodapop raise the money, and so there I was, leaving the store with a new pair of running shoes that, hopefully, the kid accepted and didn't make a big deal of. I dropped the bag into the passenger side of the truck, turning the key over and flinching at the noise it made, making a mental note to have Steve look at the engine. Maybe it was something that could be fixed with a little elbow grease and not too much money. We'd had this truck since my dad had bought it when I was ten, and there was no way I could afford to replace it, not with another mouth to feed. So had I decided, then? Was I going to try and take this kid in for real? I don't know…I don't know if I'd decided yet.

The light was on at our place when I walked through the front door at 8:25, the glow from our living room illuminating my walk up from the driveway. I glanced over at the house next door out of habit, taking note of the truck in the driveway. So the asshole was home. I wondered if Ponyboy was at our place. Or maybe still out with Johnny. It was a Friday night...I figured I'd see him sometime over the weekend.

The kid came around more on his days off of school, seeming more comfortable with us every time. The night before, Steve and Two-Bit had taken him and Johnny to a movie after school…those two kept watch over the two youngest at school, and had reported that a group of socs was pissed at them because of…something. Something to do with girls at the movies. I was sure it was all Dal's fault, and when I'd brought it up, Dallas had gotten a dark look on his face and had promised to take care of it.

I found Soda at the kitchen table, picking at his chicken and vegetables without much interest, but he gave me a weak grin when I stepped into the room, bag in hand. "Hey, Dar." He muttered, looking back down at his plate real quick. He didn't have no bruises or nothing, so I wasn't sure why he seemed to be trying to hide.

"What's going on, Pepsi cola?" I wondered, ruffling his hair a little. He just shrugged me off, giving me that weak smile again, pointing to the stove.

"Left you a plate."

"Yeah? Thanks, kiddo." I grabbed the still-warm plate of chicken, corn, and bread off the stove, kind of surprised at the normalcy of everything on it. Even the mashed potatoes were the proper color. "I got the shoes," I told him, pointing to the bag on the counter. "Though you'd give them to him this weekend. You work tomorrow?"

"Nah. I'm off all weekend. Steve works tomorrow with the new guy." I hadn't known about a new guy but didn't ask, just dug into my food until my stomach allowed me a break long enough to ask another question.

"You feeling alright?"

"Yeah." He answered, his voice short, telling me in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to talk about it. Like any good older brother, I ignored it.

"You got plans with Sandy tomorrow?" I asked, trying to grin like I would any other time back before I'd become the head of this place. Like I was his big brother.

"Nope. Don't think I'll ever have plans with Sandy again, Dar." I paused at that, blinking and putting my fork down.

"You two done?" I asked, surprised. I'd thought he'd stick with her…hell, I'd figured he'd marry her. They'd been together for over a year and I'd never seen my brother like a girl like Sandy. Besides, she was a good girl. Smart. Sweet.

"She's pregnant." And then I felt my whole world come to a screeching halt. No. Surely my kid brother hadn't. He knew! He knew what thin ice we were on! I couldn't pay for a baby and neither could he! I felt shame and disappointment and just plain old sadness mixing. Before I could open my mouth, though, he went on. "Ain't mine. Her parents are shipping her off to live with her aunt." And then my little brother was pushing away from the table, looking tired and older than sixteen. "I'm going to bed."

I found myself alone at the table, still trying to process all that. He'd spit it all out like he couldn't wait to say it, and I wondered if I should follow him…knock on his door and make sure he was okay. But what the hell did I say to that? Of course, he wasn't okay! His girlfriend had cheated on him…was pregnant with some other guy's kid. I massaged my temples, closing my eyes and sighing. A baby wasn't something we could handle right then. And if she was running around on him, Soda was better off without her…but I knew it still hurt like hell.

I finished my food, barely tasting it, then washed the dishes, putting the leftover food away into a container that I left in the fridge. Grabbing a beer and popping the top, I took a long drink, wondering if that would help. I doubted it. Still, it tasted good and set my nerves at ease. If I hadn't worried so much about my health, I might have taken up smoking to keep calm, not that it seemed to do the others any good. I'd see Pony light up with shaky hands and take a drag, and he'd be still for about two minutes before they'd go right back to shaking. So I figured I'd stick to beer and beating up socs on occasion. Maybe Aaron too, if he pissed me off.

I knocked on Soda's door after a minute of debating, opening it as soon as he invited me in. He didn't say nothing, just stared at the car magazine held loosely in his grip, eyes staring straight at the page. I moved over to his side, feeling inadequate. He needed Dad. Dad would sling an arm over his shoulder and promise it would be okay. Dad would distract him and joke until he felt better. But I wasn't Dad…I didn't have it in me to joke about this. And he needed Mom. Mom would tell him she never liked that Sandy girl, a blatant lie, but a nice one. She'd kiss his head and stroke his cheek and tell him that he was going to meet a better girl some day, but that in the mean time, she'd make a chocolate cake. But I wasn't Mom neither.

So I sat on the bed beside him, one leg bent at the knee, the other hanging off the side, and reached out a hand to clasp his shoulder. He still didn't look at me. "I'm awful sorry, Pepsi cola." He shrugged like it didn't matter, but it did. Glory, to him, it mattered more than anything. "She ain't good enough anyway," I told him, faking a confidence I so desperately wanted, the words awkward and tentative on my tongue. But I pressed on. "That kind of girl don't belong in our family."

"What kind of girl?" Soda asked, voice oddly flat.

"The kind that hurts my kid brother." He glanced up at that, lips turning up just a little, and I grinned, a knot loosening in my chest. It was working. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when the scream split the air.

We both jumped, my hands dropping and his whole body going stiff, looking around for the source. It had been a short sound, cut off in the middle, like, and loud enough to be close. It was almost as though we'd imagined it, since it was all quiet for a minute, and then we heard the crash, the sound of glass breaking, and another scream, this one my name. "Darry! Darry!"

"Ponyboy." Soda all but whispered, jumping to his feet, and I was right behind, following him out into the hallway and through the house, my shoulder slamming into the wall as I slid, but I ignored it, following my brother out onto the front porch where we both paused, looking around desperately. Waiting.

We both looked at the house next door at the same time. A familiar truck was in the driveway. The front door was open, the light on in the living room. Neither of us could see inside from where we were, but instinct must have drawn us closer, both of us jumping off the porch and hurrying over to get a look.

There was a lamp on the floor. I pushed past Sodapop, taking their front porch stairs two at a time until I was yanking open the front door, all of it seeming unreal. The living room was a disaster of beer bottles and glass, a lamp on its side. The TV was on, some western playing, and Aaron was kneeling over someone. No, not someone. It was Ponyboy. I knew it right off. Who else would it be? Ponyboy was on his back, silent. Still. Hands limp at his sides. Aaron knelt over him, one knee on his left wrist, hands wrapped around the boy's neck, mouth moving as he muttered things I couldn't and didn't want to hear.

When I'd seen Ponyboy at the grocery store all those weeks ago…when I'd helped him pay for his groceries, he'd been talking to the cashier. "It ain't for me, man. If I don't get it, my uncle's gonna kill me." I hadn't thought too much about those words. I mean, yeah, his uncle was an asshole. Yeah, the guy beat on him. But I knew lots of guys whose family beat them. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But the State and the police sure didn't seem to care, so what could I do about it?

Then the kid had cut his own wrist, and I'd been more preoccupied with that. Everyone had kept an eye on him, and even though he spent plenty of time alone, he hadn't tried nothing like that since. But I knew things had to be bad for him to try something like that…to try and end his own life. Why hadn't I listened? Why hadn't I really thought about what the kid had said? "My uncle's gonna kill me."

My feet moved before I noticed, and I tackled Aaron with a force I hadn't used since my football days, not caring when his head cracked against the wood floor. My fist pulled back, slamming into his nose once, twice, three times before Soda's panicked voice broke through the fog surrounding me.

"Darry! Darry, he ain't breathing! Darry?" I stared down at Aaron who, against all odds, was blinking up at me, dazed and bleeding.

"Touch him again, I'll kill y,u." I screamed it, uncontrolled and furious, both things my dad had never been. But I didn't think my dad had ever seen someone try to kill one of us. That thought lingered for a second. I'd been wrong. I knew exactly where that kid stood with us.

Dropping to my knees beside the boy, I put two fingers against his throat, waiting for too long while Soda shook on his other side, one hand gripping the kid's pale, limp one. Blood. There was a lot of blood. And glass. But the kid wasn't breathing. His lips were too pale. Blue. The pulse was there but barely. Just a weak 'thump…thump…'

"My uncle's gonna kill me."

"Darry….Darry he…he…he's not…"

"Call an ambulance. Now." I barked, pointing at their phone, and Soda leapt to do as I'd ordered, glancing back at me as I bent over the kid, my hands careful as they tilted his head back. I knew mouth to mouth…had learned it at the YMCA course I'd taken, and never in my life had I been more grateful for it than when I opened that kid's mouth, pinching his nose and exhaling hard, my lips against his.

I'd always thought it would be weird to give somebody mouth to mouth. Too much like kissing. But as I pumped my hands against his chest, feeling something give and ignoring the knot in my stomach, all I could think of was the boy who'd saved Johnny Cade and who had made all of us love him…who was so afraid and so smart and good and…it wasn't fair. Hell, it was a stupid, childish thing to think, but it wasn't fair. This kid didn't deserve all this shit. He deserved a real family, one that actually cared. One that would never hurt him. And if he survived this, I was going to give him one.

I didn't stop pumping his chest and blowing air into his mouth until the sirens were in the driveway and EMTs were pulling the boy out of my arms. The police came too, demanding an explanation that I managed to choke out, Soda quiet and shaken beside me, and the next thing I knew, we were in a waiting room, me wondering how the hell we'd gotten there, and if our little brother was going to survive this.


	30. The Storm

**The Storm**

I knew I'd made a mistake the second I'd opened my mouth. It was stupid. I knew better! I knew what talking back to him would get me. Hadn't I learned my lesson when he'd shoved me down the stairs? Aaron had a short temper. According to my grandfather, who had said it like it was a good thing, my uncle had been born with a short temper and fists always ready to fight. I had to assume that my grandfather had encouraged it. He'd always said that I'd never be much of a man if I didn't learn how to fight. So I'd learned how to fight…it had never been enough.

It hadn't been a bad day…actually, it had been pretty good for a school day. It was Friday, and like every other school day, I'd woken up early enough to get dressed in time to catch a ride with Sodapop and Steve. Sometimes Two-Bit and Johnny would be around too, and they'd all wait in Steve's car for me, honking the horn or, on mornings when Aaron wasn't around, they'd knock on the door. That morning, Aaron had been home, so I'd gotten ready in my room as quickly as possible. Most school day mornings he'd leave me alone. Teachers rarely noticed or cared if I had bruises or a black eye, but he didn't want anyone to get any ideas…call the police or get social services on his case, not that they'd care.

Occasionally a teacher would ask me if I was okay, and I'd tell them I was fine. The police had showed up when I was in the hospital, but they'd been assured that I was just clumsy or some shit, and they'd never investigated any further. Useless. Always happy to come down hard on poor kids, but never the parents that beat on them. Or the grandparents. Or the uncles. They didn't give a single solitary shit about me. And that was fine. I'd been looking out for myself since I was a kid, and now I had a group of friends that kind of looked out for me. So that was fine. I was fine.

Aaron had been drinking in the living room when I stepped out of the bathroom, and I felt dread coil in my stomach. Usually, the only time he drank in the morning was when he'd lost a job, and if he'd lost a job, then all bets were off. Either he'd start drinking himself into a stupor and beat me even more often until he found a new home, or we'd be packing up…moving to another crappy town into an equally crappy little house, and over and over until I was old enough to escape.

I had thought about the guys next door…the ones who felt almost like family. Darry and Soda, like big brothers, and the rest, like…like cousins, if I'd ever had any. Guys who I could hang out with and knew would have my back. Guys that wouldn't hurt me. For once in my life, I was safe with someone. I had a group of friends. It was great. If only Aaron would disappear. Pack up and just leave me. Abandon me. I couldn't think of anything that would make me happier than being abandoned by that asshole.

He'd glanced up from the beer bottle he'd been drinking from, lifting an eyebrow at my frozen form. I knew I should keep my mouth shut…that I should just make a break for the door and leave for the day and pray that he wouldn't be there later. But instead, I opened my mouth…like an idiot.

"Are you off today?" I had asked, voice almost too quiet for him to hear me. He had lifted an eyebrow, reminding me of Two-Bit who seemed to do the same thing every time I talked to him.

"You ain't been around much. Been hanging out with your new buddies?" I'd blinked at that, wary. "You know, those assholes next door. Bunch of hoods." I hadn't answered since I'd doubted he wanted an answer. "Hey! I'm talking to you, you little shit!"

"I've just been out." I had settled on telling him, hands shaking a little at my sides. For a minute, I'd dared stare into his eyes, but then I'd felt my eyes dropping, burning a hole into the carpet, ears open for any sign that he was going to get up. I had heard a soft bang, a door slamming next door, and knew that I didn't have much time.

"Yeah, well stay gone if you want." He'd told me with a wave of his hand, and I'd barely managed to get out of the way when a beer bottle had been thrown at my face, exploding into shards by my head. But when I'd looked back at him, he hadn't even stood up…just opened another bottle and took a drink. "We're gonna be here for a while…I'm off today." His voice had been almost…nice. No, not nice. Just…normal. Like he was talking to anyone and not the person he hated the most in the world. "I go in tomorrow and Sunday…we could use the money."

We…we, like me and him? It was an odd thing for him to say, but I hadn't questioned it. Instead, I'd left him on the couch, joining Steve and Soda in their car. Steve had been driving, and Sodapop had turned around in his seat with a grin for me, one a bit more subdued than normal, but still happy. I had figured he was still upset about Sandy. I didn't blame him. He'd really loved her, and she'd treated him awful. Still, he was trying not to let it stick to him. "Hey, kiddo, got any plans for tonight?" He'd wondered.

"Just got a bunch of homework to do. Might go to the movies with Johnny." Dally was going to meet Tim Shepherd on his side of town, so I figured Tim had forgiven Dallas for slashing his tires. I didn't mind not going to the movies with Dally, though. I liked him plenty, but he'd been awful to those girls and now those socs were taking it out on me and Johnny since we'd been around the girls when they'd picked them up. Just a few days ago, one had slammed me into the concrete wall in the bathroom, assuring me that he'd make me pay for hitting on his girl, as though I'd done anything more than answer her questions. And I'd barely done that.

Steve had stepped into the bathroom before they could do more than punch me in the cheek, slamming his head into the wall and warning them to stay away from me. "You okay, Ponyboy?" He'd asked, gripping my shoulder, and I'd fought the urge to tell him that Aaron had done so much worse…that a punch to the cheek was barely anything.

"Yeah. Fine." I'd told him.

"Next time, punch him yourself. I ain't always going to be around to save you." He'd grinned to soften the words, ruffling my hair and then draping an arm around me, pulling me in close for just a second in a hug. He wouldn't always be around to save me. I knew that. Glory, I knew that better than anything. No one had never been around to save me…not before these guys.

"Shoot kid, that all you do? Go to the movies? Do homework?" Steve had asked, grinning a little in the rearview mirror. "You ought to come with us to a poker game or something."

"I'm shit at poker." I had reminded him, and they had both chuckled.

"All the better. You can help us hustle some of those guys." Soda had said.

"And help us fight back when they try to kill us." Steve had put in with a laugh. "They don't take too well to cheaters."

School had started fine, me going to my classes and doing my best to listen despite the socs that had done their best to distract me. They threw stuff at me sometimes or passed notes that I ignored. Darry had been right…I could get a scholarship. Maybe. Have a chance of going to college and having a real future. I had thought of that bathtub…the blood running down my arms and into the drain…and felt fear and shame mix in my chest. I had wanted to die. I'd lost every bit of hope. And now…sometimes I still lost it. But at least I had someone. I knew now that the guys next door cared about me. That they were like family and actually saw me as family. I wasn't alone…not totally.

So I did my best. I kept my grades up. And on that Friday, just like every other Friday, I had taken notes in class and, before Steve and Two-Bit could find me and convince me to come to the DX with them, I had ducked into the library. After a minute, Johnny had joined me, both of us at a table in the back where we'd pulled out our textbooks, me feeling it again. Normal. Like a normal person who had friends and did normal things. It had been great.

After we'd worked on homework for a while, him helping me with math and me helping him with English, we'd separated to go our own ways to our classes, and I hadn't seen any of them until gym where Steve always waited for me on the bleachers. He stuck by me while we changed and headed out to the floor, making sure to get on my team for dodge ball, which was the go-to for the coach on Fridays when he didn't feel like having us do any real work. The socs liked to use it as an excuse to nail us in the face whenever possible, but Steve and I were pretty quick, and he laughed every time I got one of the rich guys with a ball, especially when I managed to get them in the face.

When gym was over, after we'd showered and changed, I found myself with Steve as we headed outside. Johnny had mentioned in the library that he was going home and that maybe we could meet later at the movies. He'd promised to stop by if he could, and then maybe we could go from there. "You want a ride home, kid?" Steve had asked, leading me toward his car. I'd started to nod, to tell him sure, when Evie had showed up, grabbing his hand and grinning. He softened, his smile bright as he'd squeezed her hand. "Hey. I thought you were going shopping." He'd glanced over at me and the girl had as well.

"I was. With Sandy." She had reminded him quietly, turning with a smile for me. "Hey, Ponyboy."

"Hi." I had muttered, still not too comfortable with girlfriends. Still, she seemed pretty nice, so I tried to be nice too. Or, at least, I tried to say 'hello' and look them in the eye. She and Sandy had always been nice. Then again, Sandy hadn't been too nice to Soda…I couldn't imagine anyone cheating on him. He was always so nice…he seemed to like her so much. I was kind of glad she was gone…I was glad she hadn't stuck around to keep making him miserable. "Steve, I'm gonna go ahead and…" I had trailed off, jerking my thumb toward the road, and he'd frowned.

"I can still give you a ride." He had assured me, but I'd shaken my head.

"Nah. I gotta stop somewhere anyway." It had been a lie, but not a bad one. He had wanted to be with his girlfriend, I was sure. Wondering where Two-Bit was, I'd headed off toward the road, hands in my pockets as I'd made my way home. Briefly, I'd thought about catching a movie but thought Johnny might want to go later. I didn't have ay money, so I couldn't have gotten anything to eat, despite how hungry I had been, so I'd just gone back to my house, hesitating when I'd seen Aaron's truck in the driveway.

No one had been home at the Curtis's house, but I'd known that I could have gone to their place anyway. I could have gone inside and gotten something to eat, and I could have just taken a nap or worked on homework or something. Either of those would have been a better choice than the one I made.

I had climbed my front steps, hitching my backpack higher on my back, and found Aaron asleep on the sofa, the TV humming quietly in the background. It was almost three o'clock. I had had no idea what time he would wake up, so I'd gone to my room, dropping off my stuff, then grabbed our clothes and started a load of laundry. I'd figured he might be less likely to hit me if I made myself useful. Then I'd all but tip-toed back into the living room, picking up beer bottles and dropping them carefully into the trash. Then I'd dusted and cleaned up the kitchen, doing the dishes, and threw together a sandwich that I scarfed down.

I had headed back to my room after switching the laundry to the dryer, then pulled out my homework, getting a head start so I wouldn't have to worry about it later. I had wondered what the guys were going to be up to the next day…wondered if I would be invited to join. Hanging out at their place was always a lot more fun than spending time at my own house. I had to fight not to feel bad…like I was interrupting them or something. Imposing. They had invited me, I reminded me all the time. Told me I could stay in their home and that I had my own room. I didn't use it all that often, but it had been nice of them to offer…to set it aside for me. Maybe after a while, I could ease into it...after I was able to get a job, I could help out. Give Darry and Sodapop some money and not feel so bad about staying with them.

My homework hadn't taken too long to finish since I'd done a lot of it at school with Johnny. Even though I had skipped a grade, the work wasn't too hard. Thankfully I hadn't gotten in any trouble or had any reason for my teachers to talk to my uncle, so school wasn't much trouble. Just go, do my homework, study, and keep quiet. The socs had been making it a little harder, but all in all, with Steve, Two-Bit, and Johnny at my side, things had been a lot better than at my old school.

I had made dinner before Aaron woke up. Nothing fancy, just pasta. It was one of the only things I knew how to make. So I made spaghetti and toasted bread with garlic, then, once I'd put it all on plates and put a plate for him on the stove, I'd eaten my own food. I'd only been halfway through when Aaron had woken up, coming into the kitchen and yawning, staring down at me for a long second before grabbing his own plate off the stove and putting it at the kitchen table. As he'd grabbed a beer, I'd taken a moment to wish that I'd taken my food to my room.

He hadn't done anything, though. Just eaten his food, drank his beer, then gone back to the living room where he'd taken his last bottle of beer. So I'd cleaned up, washing the dishes he'd left on the table, then put the leftovers in the fridge. There had been enough to eat the next day for lunch too when Aaron was gone. After cleaning up the fridge, I had gone back to my room, pulling out a book I'd checked out from the school library, nearly finishing it by 8:30. I hadn't heard from Johnny, but I supposed he wouldn't come to the door with my uncle's truck in the driveway.

I'd peeked out my window, craning my neck to get a glimpse of the house next door. Darry's truck was in the driveway, and I figured he and Soda were both home. I hadn't seen Johnny outside though, and wondered if he'd gotten caught up…or if his old man had hurt him. I knew the man had hurt him before. For a moment, I had thought about climbing out the window…sneaking out and climbing into the night...going to Darry's house where I would be safe. That would have been a much better idea.

Instead, I'd gone to the kitchen for a drink and something else to eat. I'd barely eaten anything all day, so I had figured I could made a sandwich or something, maybe pop open a coke. I'd just opened the fridge when Aaron had called my name, and reluctantly, I'd stepped into the living room, leaning in the doorway.

"Grab me another beer." He'd ordered, waving a hand, not looking away from the TV.

Going back to the fridge, I'd prayed I was wrong. But I hadn't been. The fridge had been empty of everything but food and soda. For a moment, I'd stared at the kitchen window, wondering if I could make it. Instead of trying, which I definitely should have done, I'd gone back to the living room. "You're out."

Aaron had stared at me for a long time, then pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. "Out?"

"Yeah, you drank it all." I'd told him, not sure why he had such difficulty with the concept. And then I'd glanced up at him, catching sight of his expression, and that was when I had realized that I had made a mistake.

"Well why the hell didn't you get some more, huh?" He'd asked, getting too close. I'd dropped my eyes, hating myself for staring at the floor instead of his face.

"You didn't give me any money." I'd muttered, and then the fist had come, slamming into my nose and knocking me backward. Why the hell couldn't I keep my mouth shut?

"What?" He had snapped, stepping forward, hands clenched into fists. "What did you just say to me?"

"I didn't have any money to get more beer." I had told him, speaking clearly, wondering how I was supposed to buy beer when he didn't give me money and when he beat me up when I took the money myself. I had known better...had known that I should stop talking. But I hated it...hated him and hated my life in that house and hated that I had to watch every single thing I ever said.

Grabbing my collar, he'd pulled me closer, sour breath hitting my face and making me flinch. "You better watch your mouth, you little shit." He'd shoved me back, then, my back slamming into the wall. But he hadn't left it at that…he'd come toward me again, fist clenched, arm pulled back, and suddenly, Dallas's words had come back to me. "One night he was beating the hell out of me and I just hit him back." I'd never hit back…never even thought about it. Because I knew better. Because I could never win a fight against him. But then my fingers were wrapped around the lamp on the table beside me, and I had been bringing it down on his head.

For a long minute, there had been absolute, horrified silence in our house. He had stumbled back, blinking wildly and nearly falling, but he had caught himself on his recliner, gripping it weakly as he had run a hand through his hair. 'Run.' My brain had supplied helpfully. I had known I had to run...had to get to safety. Becuase I'd fought back...he would kill me for fighting back. So I'd started running, arms pumping as I'd slipped by him, hoping he was too out of it to catch me. And I'd nearly gotten away…nearly made it to the door before his fingers had wrapped around my shirt, yanking me backward and forcing a short, terrified scream from my mouth. The fist had hit me with more force that time, and I'd been on the ground before I'd known it, screaming when his foot drew back and hit my side so hard that for a second, I hadn't been able to breathe. Then again, then three more times before I had lost count.

As soon as I'd managed to catch my breath, I'd opened my mouth and screamed for the one person I knew would help me. I liked Sodapop…hell, I probably loved him. He was like my brother. But Darry would protect me. He wouldn't let my uncle kill me. So I had screamed for him, over and over until hands wrapped around my throat…until my uncle's furious face above mine had been covered with black dots and my vision had blurred at the edges. No matter how hard I fought, no matter how desperately I hit back, he didn't let go.

I'd thought it would be more...dramatic. The result of something more than just me talking back...and throwing a lamp at his head. I'd always thought I'd do something big...really fight back. Really hit him. Injure him. Make it so he couldn't hurt someone again. But all I'd managed to do was hit him in the head with a lamp. I wanted to do more...tell him what an asshole he was. Tell him how much I hated him...how I was going to get away...how he wouldn't ruin my life. But things were fading...I couldn't breathe. No one was coming...I was going to die alone. And my last terrified thought before I gave into the darkness had been 'I always knew he'd kill me.'


	31. After

**After**

Dally's hands were shoved in his pockets as the two of us made our way down the street toward Darry's place. He chuckled, shaking his head at something I'd just said…something that I completely forgot about saying when I saw the sirens. The sun had gone down a couple of hours ago, and there were three police cars parked outside the Curtis house. Beside me, Dallas froze in place, his hands slowly coming out of his pockets. "What the hell." He muttered beside me, both of us moving together to the other side of the street, torn between keeping distance between us and the fuzz and figuring out what was going on.

"Probably just playing their music too loud." The joke felt forced even as I said it, my jaw clenched too tight, heart beating fast. I wanted to run. Glory, it was like second nature. Like an instinct. Touch a hot stove, pull back. See a soc on the street, get ready to fight. See flashing blue lights, run. But I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen those lights in front of the Curtis house. Ever since their parents had died, Darry had been nuts about making sure no one ever had a reason to call the cops on them. Sure, they'd get a little loud. And yeah, sometimes we would come home beat all to hell. But we lived in a neighborhood where no one much cared. Long as we kept to ourselves and didn't cause trouble for no one, it was all good.

Sodapop was smoking a cigarette on the front lawn, and I could just barely make out his features in the dark. The lights from their living room window lit up the front yard just enough for me to see him sucking on the cigarette. I took a hesitant step forward only to pause when Dallas grabbed my shoulder, shaking his head. "We need to figure out what's going on."

"Yeah, after the cops split."

Suddenly a door opened, but it wasn't the Curtis's front door. It was Ponyboy's. And as we approached from the other side of the street, I realized that the cop cars weren't parked in front of the Curtis's house. They were parked in front of Ponyboy's house. I glanced over at Dallas who seemed to figure it out just when I did. "Ponyboy." He muttered, taking a step into the street and looking around before taking a few more steps forward. He was just as hesitant to get close as I was, but if they were at Pony's house…there was no way Ponyboy Davis had done anything to get the cops down to his house. So that meant Aaron had done something, and that could never be good.

The door to the kid's house opened and a cop walked out, his partner close behind. Both were talking too quiet to hear, glancing back at the front door and shaking their heads. I'd had enough of waiting and hurried forward, loping across the road and Pony's lawn, past the cop cars and to the two policemen who gave me wary looks.

"Can I help you, Matthews?" The one in front asked. I knew him from around town…and he'd arrested me twice. But I wasn't doing nothing to get in trouble now, not until I knew the kid was okay.

"Buddy of mine lives here. Ponyboy. Scrawny kid, never in trouble, runs track. Lives here with his asshole uncle." The cops glanced at each other, jaws tight, and Dallas came up beside me, arms crossed as he, too, waited to hear what was going on. In the yard next door, Soda had pulled out a second cigarette and didn't seem to be paying us any attention, and Darry was nowhere to be seen. "Come on. The kid's like family.

"We got a call from Darrel Cutis next door. He's inside talking to our boss. He said he heard yelling over here, and when he came to investigate, he found Aaron Davis strangling his nephew." The police officer spoke softly like he wasn't supposed to be telling us this but I didn't care.

"Strangling?" Dallas repeated, incredulous.

"How is he? Pony? Is he inside?"

"Darrel Curtis and his brother did CPR until the ambulance arrived. Ponyboy wasn't breathing on his own when they took him to the hospital."

"Hospital?" I repeated. "Did anyone go with him?"

"Darrel and Sodapop was asked to stay here and speak to the police. His uncle has been arrested. Now beat it, you two. We've got to wrap this up."

"Can we go in? Talk to Darry?"

"Beat it, Matthews. Before we take you and Winston to the station with Davis." I had to admit, it sounded like a pretty good idea. Maybe they'd put us in a cell with him. But we needed to talk to Darry first, so I just nodded, muttering a 'thank you' and led an about-to-fight Dallas over to the Curtis house where Soda must have been chain-smoking his third or fourth cigarette.

"Soda? What the hell's going on?" Dallas demanded, pushing past me to get through their front gate. He glanced up at us, red-eyed with shaking hands.

"He was gonna kill him." Soda told us, his voice hoarse. I grabbed the cigarette from his hand, dropping it to the dewy grass and stomped on it.

"I think you've had enough of those," I told him simply. He barely seemed to notice.

"Pony knew it…he said it before. Told me he was never gonna make it to college because Aaron would kill him." He choked on the words, now empty hands wiping at his eyes. "He was screaming…screaming for Darry. And when we got over there…the place was a mess and Aaron had his hands around his throat. He knew. Glory he knew." I felt my own throat close up at the thought. Not Ponyboy…that kid was like Johnny…too little. Too young. Too quiet. Why did people keep trying to hurt him? I knew for sure that kid hadn't given his asshole uncle any reason to hurt him. Naw…Aaron just did it for fun. And Ponyboy had known. He'd known that his uncle hated him and would one day hurt him real bad. Maybe he already had…we'd just met the kid…but in some way, it felt like he'd been around forever. It was odd to think of a time before the kid, just like it was odd to think of a time before Johnny.

"He told me the same thing...he knew." Dallas sounded just as hoarse as Soda, and I swallowed hard, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of cops. I wanted to throw up…wanted to scream and throw something and them maybe punch something. My hands shook with it just like Soda's. Aaron deserved to be punished for this. And I would have been happy to do the punishing.

"He knew and he told us and we didn't…we didn't do anything." Soda put a hand over his mouth, shaking his head. He was crying, I realized, and wondered how the hell this had happened. We'd gotten Tim to threaten the idiot. Tim Shepherd! We'd threatened him! Beat him up. Told him we'd kill him if he messed with the kid again. But he'd done it anyway. Was it really on us? I couldn't help feeling like it was. There must have been something else we could have done. Some way we could have stopped this.

"We need to get to the hospital," I told them, pitching my voice soft. I wanted to see the kid…see for myself that he was still alive. Then we could focus on what to do next. Surely they weren't going to let Aaron take him back anymore. He'd go to jail…right? Then what would happen to our kid? "How was he when the ambulance took him?"

"Not good." Soda admitted. "They put a tube down his throat…he couldn't breathe. I think his arm was broken or something. Darry broke some ribs while he was doing CPR. Couldn't help it…he had to. But his heart was barely beating. He wasn't awake…wasn't responding to anything." My chest felt like it was caving in but I pushed through it. No way the kid was gonna die. He was fourteen. He couldn't die.

"Okay…how long is Darry gonna be?" I wondered., anxious to move forward.

"Don't know. He's been talking to them for almost an hour. They took Aaron already. I don't what the hell they're still talking to him for." Soda bit out, hands shaking.

"You called anybody?" Dally asked.

"Tried calling your place, Two. No one answered. Tried Steve's place too, but I think he's out with Evie." He shrugged. "Figured Johnny would wander over at some point." He shrugged. "Darry said we'd go to the hospital as soon as he got done talking to the police."

"Alright. I'm gonna go find Johnny. See if Steve's around." Dally spoke up, hands shoved in his pocket. I'd figured he'd have to do something. Dally always had to be doing something. "We'll meet you guys at the hospital?"

"Sounds good. I'm gonna stick around here. Ride with Soda and Darry." I told him. Honestly, I wanted to go right to the hospital, but I doubted they'd even let me see him. Besides, Sodapop needed someone with him. Dal nodded, hurrying off down the street past the police cars, the flashing lights throwing shadows across his back, and beside me, Soda lit up another cigarette. "The kid's gonna be fine, Soda." I murmured, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

"You didn't see him." He all but snapped. I dropped my eyes, hating myself for being glad. I was glad I hadn't seen the kid…glad I hadn't seen his uncle nearly kill him.

"No…but I know Ponyboy. He's the toughest kid I've ever met. Including you." Soda snorted a little.

"Hell, I ain't tough, Two. Couldn't even protect a kid living next door. Too caught up with my own shit."

"You're like a big brother to that kid, Soda. You more than any of us." I spoke softly, leaning in and grabbing his shoulder. "We all know that kid probably wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you."

"Dal's the one that found him when he tried to…" Soda cut himself off.

"Yeah, but you're the one that takes care of him."

"We all do." I shrugged, not up to fighting it. Just as he was pulling another cigarette out of his pocket, Darry emerged from the house, surprisingly not followed by a cop. "Darry?" He asked, both of us hurrying over to the fence where he paused, turning to face us. He was real pale, lips in a thin line, and he looked just like his dad when the man had been worried about something.

"Two-Bit." He greeted, voice almost hoarse. "You hear?"

"Yeah, man. What did those cops want?"

"Wanted me to tell 'em what happened with Pony. I couldn't tell them much. Just…we didn't get over there until it was almost over. He was screaming…screaming for me."

"You saved his life," I spoke firmly, hoping he believed me. He had. Surely he'd saved Ponyboy. Ponyboy couldn't die. He was too smart. Too young. Too good.

"Yeah…" His voice died off before he could say anything else. "We're gonna drive down there. You gonna ride with us?"

I nodded. "If that's alright."

"Of course." He pulled his keys out of his pocket and Sodapop and I climbed into the truck, silence taking over for just a few minutes before I couldn't help asking. "How bad? Really?"

"He wasn't breathing on his own," Darry told me simply. "Had to do CPR. Broke some of his ribs." I grabbed his shoulder.

"That happens all the time when you do CPR. You told us that when you taught us how to do it."

"Yeah. I know."

"Anything else?"

"Might have a broken wrist. I couldn't tell. He wasn't exactly talking." Darry bit out.

"What about his uncle?"

"They arrested him." That was still hard to believe. It took a hell of a lot for the fuzz to arrest anyone over beating on a greaser, even a little one. "He's gonna lose custody…they're gonna lock him up for a while."

"No idea how long?"

"Not yet." Beside me, Sodapop was real quiet, head resting on the window and staring out at the passing scenery. I wondered if he was crying and decided not to try and figure that out.

"So what's going to happen to Ponyboy?" I asked, my voice dropping. He sighed, running a hand over his face and shaking his head.

"I don't know, Two."

"He gonna go into foster care?"

"I don't know." He murmured, gripping the wheel with white knuckles.

"Or are they going to put him in a boy's home."

"I don't know, Two-Bit." He snapped a little. "Shit, Two, I don't…" He ran a hand down his face. "I just don't know."

I kept my mouth shut until we got to the hospital, him parking and all of us hurrying toward the front entrance. Darry led us to the front desk, leaning in to the nurse who gave us a skeptical look. I glanced around the almost-empty waiting room but didn't see Dally or any of the other guys around, so I figured Dal was still looking for them. He'd probably call Tim too, who had seemed to get kind of attached to the kid.

"We're here to see Ponyboy Davis. He should have just been brought in."

"Are you family?"

"No…we're his neighbors. He got beat up by his uncle…we were the ones that called the police." She nodded, shifting a stack of papers and then gesturing to the chairs against the wall.

"You're welcome to take a seat. I don't know anything about his condition yet. A doctor should be able to update you soon." I wanted to argue…to demand to know when the hell ''soon' was going to be. But she probably wouldn't know any better than we would, so I followed the Curtis brothers over to the chairs and dropped into one, the back of my head pressed against the wall. The clock in the corner told me it was getting close to ten o'clock…we should have been going to the movies or something. Taking the kid out to dinner. Not waiting in a damn hospital waiting room to see if he was even going to survive.

It only took about thirty minutes for Dallas to arrive, Steve and Johnny in tow. Johnny had red-rimmed eyes and he stared between us with, obviously scared. I patted the seat next to me and he eased himself into the chair while I threw an arm around his shoulders. "How is he?" Dallas asked, standing still while Steve sat beside Sodapop, arms crossed tight across his chest as he stared at his buddy.

"Don't know yet. They haven't told us anything." Darry told him shortly.

"You call Tim?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. He's on his way. They arrested Aaron?" He asked, just making sure, and Darry nodded.

"He's gonna lost custody."

"Now what's gonna happen to him?" Dally just about demanded. Darry pushed himself to his feet, fists clenched.

"How the hell am I supposed to know that, Dallas?" Dally blinked a few times, looking like he just might let off some steam by punching him in the face, but even Dal knew that causing trouble in the waiting room where we were waiting to see Ponyboy was the wrong thing to do. After a minute, Darry backed off, shaking his head and muttering something about the bathroom before stomping off.

"He just feels guilty." Soda excused his brother to Dally who just shrugged, sitting down in one of the chairs across from us. "He's freaked out…we all are."

"Yeah, I get it." Dal waved him off.

"The cops didn't say anything about who was gonna get custody." Soda continued.

"They'll probably put him in a boy's home if he don't got anymore family," Dally muttered. Steve huffed, looking furious over by Sodapop, and Johnny went real pale.

"A boy's home?" I squeezed his shoulders, hugging him to my side.

"We don't know." I reminded him. "All we can do is guess. The doctors ain't said nothing and the cops wouldn't tell us neither. We just gotta wait."

And wait we did. Darry came back after way too long, shrugging his brother off when he tried to ask where he'd been, and dropped back into his chair. He looked exhausted, and I had to admit I was feeling awful tired myself. I didn't know why…it wasn't even that late. But as soon as I'd heard what had happened, it's like all the energy had drained out of me. I closed my eyes, taking my arm back from around Johnny's shoulders when my arm started to go numb, and I think I somehow managed to nod off for a while before Johnny was shaking me. I jerked awake, blinking and looking around the room only to find Darry standing up, facing some guy in a white coat that shook his hand.

"I'm Doctor Riker." He told our friend. The doctor was as tall as Darry with almost too-long red hair for a doctor and a mustache that almost hid his upper lip. He seemed nice, though.

"Darrel Curtis." He introduced himself. "We live next door to Ponyboy. We're the ones that called the ambulance."

"Nice to meet you. We have Ponyboy set up in a room and visiting hours are from 9 am to 9 pm…" He glanced between us, seeming undecided for a moment, then leaning in a little. "If you want to follow me, I can take you to his room. You can see him…just for a few minutes."

"We'd really appreciate it." Darry said, smiling for the first time that night, and we all jumped to our feet, ready to follow. He hesitated then, eyes trailing over all of us, and Darry lowered his voice. "That kid's like family. We ain't gonna cause no trouble, I swear."

He sighed, taking another look at Dally who shoved his hands into his pockets and then turned, jerking his head for us to follow him as he strolled down the hallway like he owned the place. I reached out, gripping Johnny's shoulder and shaking him with a grin that he tried to return and failed. "He's fine," I muttered. "They're taking us to his room. They wouldn't let us see him if he wasn't okay."

I wanted to take it all back when we stepped into his room. I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep…it must have been a while because all the tubes and wires attached to him had to have taken a while to attach. He wasn't wearing a shirt…there was a sheet up to his waist, and his whole torso just about was wrapped in bandages. The parts that weren't wrapped were already black and blue, and I knew they'd only get worse. His right wrist was wrapped up too, and there were needles in the crooks of both of his arms.

It only got worse, the further up I looked. Soda made a noise beside me, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the kid. The boy's mouth was open, a thick tube disappearing into his mouth and down his throat. It made a loud, rasping noise that must have been it breathing for him, his chest forced up and down in time with the noise. And his throat…around his throat were thick red marks where the man must have wrapped his hands around him, the red fading to black. They were bruise…he'd have bruises all over his neck and he couldn't breathe on his own and Aaron had tried to kill him and the kid had known it was coming…had known that his uncle was going to try to kill him. He'd told us and we hadn't done enough to protect him.

Grabbing the closest trash can, I dropped to my knees and lost my dinner, feeling someone's hand rubbing my back as I wretched, wondering how the hell this could ever be made right. How the hell were we supposed to protect this kid when they were going to put him in a boy's home and we'd never see him again...when he was laying there, not even able to breathe, and only a handful of greasers around to look after him.

I expected everyone to be looking the same when I glanced up, and for the most part, they did. Steve looked real pale, and so did Johnny, both of them staring at the floor. Soda looked like he might throw up too, and Dallas was glaring at the kid like he'd done something wrong. But Darry...Darry walked right up to the kid, putting a hand on one of the kid's and looked like he'd finally gotten the answer to a question he'd been asking for a long time.


	32. The Decision

****

**The Decision**

Something was beeping...a steady, soft noise in my left ear. Confused, I tried to turn my head, but even trying to move made it ache, so I stayed still. Moving my hand was equally hard, so I tried to wiggle my fingers, which was at least somewhat possible. My little finger lifted just a little, but even that shot a jolt of pain up my arm so I gave up. Someone spoke but I couldn't catch the words. It was all just background noise. Was it one of my friends or was it my uncle…that was the question. If it was my uncle, it would be better to stay still. My friends, though, might worry.

My throat hurt. Or…my chest? And my throat. It all hurt. I tried to take a breath but I couldn't. Or…I could. I could breathe. But I couldn't. I was breathing, but not because I wanted to be. I tried to stop but the air was being forced in and out of my lungs and I wanted to scream. Or cry. Nothing worked. I tried to make a noise but nothing came out. Just a choked whine if I focused hard enough. Then someone took my hand. I stopped fighting, figuring that my uncle wouldn't be holding my hand, and let myself go back into darkness.

The next time I was sort of awake, I was choking. Something was being pulled out of my throat and I tried to scream or yell or something at the awful scraping in my throat, but all I could do was lay there until it was over and I was gasping for breath, lungs working but unable to do anything else but try to breathe. "There you go, son. Keep breathing. You're doing great." Someone murmured, and I wondered who the hell that was. It wasn't a voice I recognized.

My brain barely managed to put more than one thought together…I felt like I was floating. Or…something. Just, existing. And other times I'd be gone. Darkness. Nothing. Sleeping? Maybe? I couldn't tell. I couldn't remember. All I knew was that sometimes I was awake and could hear words and sometimes I wasn't. And sometimes, I couldn't tell which was which. But I knew that I ached everywhere and my throat was the worst.

Something under my nose ticked. I twitched, trying to move my head again, but that didn't work. My body refused to respond. Wondering what the heck that would be and why I couldn't move to push it away, I tried to move again, failing and giving up after a second. I could resign myself to a lot. Something was wrong. I was hurting. I couldn't move. My eyes wouldn't even open.

I'd been in this situation before...unable to move. So many, many times. The time he'd hit me so hard that I'd knocked my head on the floor. The time he'd thrown a beer bottle at me and hadn't missed. The time he'd kicked me in the back of the head and left me in the kitchen. Every time, I woke up like this. Alone. Seemingly paralyzed. In more pain than I'd thought possible.

The question was, was I at home? Because if I was at home, I might have a long recovery ahead….lots of days of just laying in bed and hoping I didn't get kicked out of school…and hoping that Aaron didn't decide to come in for round 2. I couldn't even more, which told me it was bad. But there was beeping. Was that an alarm? Or something from the hospital? Back when I'd been in the hospital before, there had been beeping and alarms and people talking and…something. Glory my brain didn't want to work, but it better than it had been before. I could remember my name…and the fact that my uncle would probably kill me if he hadn't already. Was I dead? That seemed just as likely as anything else. Forcing myself to focus, I tried to take stock.

My head throbbed, but that was typical. A punch in the nose would do that, and I'd gotten plenty of those. My throat ached. Was I sick? It hurt a little to breathe, and when I swallowed, it felt swollen like I had a cold or something. My left arm hurt, but not too bad. I felt fuzzy like I'd drank a lot of beer, but I couldn't remember drinking any. I didn't usually drink beer. My stomach felt kind of sick but not real bad. I guessed I had a cold or the flu. I wondered if I managed to steal a couple of bucks from my uncle if Sodapop would pick me up some medicine. Or maybe Dallas or Two-Bit would swipe something. They were awful good at stealing, and they seemed to like it. Me, I always felt guilty about stealing anything.

It felt like I just lay there for a long time. Every once in a while, someone would talk, but mostly it was quiet. Sometimes someone would push my hair back and that made me think of Sodapop. Darry, too. Or someone would move around beside me and I wondered who it was. My uncle? I doubted it. I couldn't remember but I think he was mad about something. Of course, he was always mad at me about something. No way he'd pass up a chance to hurt me with me laid up like this. Or at least try and wake me up so he could yell at me. But I felt like I'd been asleep for a long time.

"Still?" A woman's voice I sort of recognized asked at one point. I tried to ask what she meant, but my mouth wouldn't move, and besides, someone else told her 'yeah' and I tried to sleep some more, dreaming about someone yelling at me. My uncle? My grandfather? It could have been either one of them.

Something had happened. Something bad. The next time I woke I was sure of it. Someone was hurt. Hadn't someone said that? "He needs a hospital." That's what someone had said. You didn't go to a hospital unless you were hurt real bad. I'd only been once as far as I could remember when my uncle had shoved me down some stairs a few years ago. Had he done it again? Or had I gotten jumped? No, I'd gotten jumped before, and no one had ever taken me to the hospital for it. Was it me that was hurt? I mean, I didn't feel too good, but that didn't mean I was in a hospital or nothing. Although that would explain the beeping. Glory, could someone stop the beeping?

"Come on, kiddo." Someone said, their voice real close, and I frowned.

"What?" I asked, my voice a croak, and I was just as surprised as anyone that it actually worked.

"Ponyboy? Can you hear me?" Sodapop. It was Sodapop. And he sounded scared. Real scared. I didn't want Sodapop to be sad. Ever. He was my best friend...like my brother.

"Soda?" I asked. "Am I...your house?" I asked, not able to open my eyes but hoping. Maybe I was safe. I was always safe at Soda's and at Two-Bit's too. Heck, even Dallas's place was safe. Safer than Aaron's, anyway. Then I could rest for a while and maybe then my words would start working again.

"No, kiddo. You're in the hospital." Hair was brushed of my forehead and someone, probably Soda, took my hand. "Can you open your eyes, Pony?"

I hummed, trying, and finally, I was able to see him, a blurry silhouette coming slowly into focus. Behind him was a white wall and a white ceiling and some kind of machine. Heart rate...it was measuring my heart rate. "What's...what's going on?" I asked, swallowing and then regretting it. It hurt worse than before. My voice was all but gone, barely a croak...more of a whisper.

"You're safe, Pone." He assured me, his hand squeezing mine. "Don't worry." My look must have worried him because he went on. "Do you remember what happened?" I thought, but even that hurt, so I shook my head. "Glory, Ponyboy...I thought you were dead." He told me softly, and I noticed for the first time that his eyes were wet. "We all did…"

"I can't...remember."

He sighed. "We were home and you were with your uncle...you were yelling...by the time we got over there, he...he had his hands around your throat. You weren't fighting anymore...your lips were blue and I...I thought you were already dead." I blinked, staring at him but not remembering. "How do you feel?" He asked, trying for a smile.

"I can't move my arm," I told him, the first thing that came to mind. Then again, I couldn't hardly move anything else either.

"It's broken." He told me, the smile turning grim.

"How the hell did I break my arm?" I rasped. He shrugged.

"Hell if I know, kiddo. The doc said when you woke up, it was gonna be hard to talk for a little bit...he bruised your throat pretty bad. It was your head they were the most worried about, though. You were without oxygen for a little bit...they were scared you wouldn't wake up. Good thing Darry took that CPR class at the Y...broke two of your ribs, though. He was awful sorry...he was trying to be careful but he had to get you breathing again. Kept it up until the ambulance came. They put a tube down your throat and everything. That can't have been fun..." He was babbling now, and I realized that he'd been scared...real scared. I wanted to tell him I was okay, but I didn't know if that was true.

"Where's he?" I murmured, glancing at the door and trying to talk as quietly as possible. If he was around, I'd need to get out as fast as I could. He could still hurt me worse. Really kill me this time.

"Darry? He had to go to work. He's been coming over every day though...sitting with you and everything. We've been trying…"

"No...the asshole." I interrupted. His lips turned up a little at the nickname, but he quickly looked serious again.

"He's in jail, Pony." My eyes widened, and I just stared at him. "When Darry got him off you, he knocked him out good, then I called the cops. They arrested him, and I don't think he'll be getting out anytime soon. He almost killed you, Ponyboy." That didn't surprise me. Hell, it was the almost that surprised me.

I stared at the ceiling again, feeling my stomach tie itself in knots. In jail. That meant he'd probably lose custody...which meant I'd be in a boys home. I'd heard stories...what if it was worse? And I'd finally made friends! Glory, I finally had people that actually cared about me and now...I was gonna be taken away.

I could run away, I told myself sharply, not wanting to start crying. I could run away from any foster home and live on the streets. I'd lived on the streets before. Sort of. I'd slept in alleys and parks and I could steal if I had to. I could survive for a couple of years. Get a job. I'd be okay. I'd never see my friends again…I'd be alone again.

The tears came suddenly, my head dropping back as I sobbed, unable to lift a hand to wipe my eyes. It wasn't fair. I didn't want to leave my friends...the only real family I'd ever had. Not for a boy's home and maybe foster care. Not for more strangers who didn't want me. Not for the streets where I might not even survive. My throat hurt even worse when I cried, but I couldn't help it.

"Hey…" Sodapop murmured, taking my hand and pushing my hair back again. "Hey, Pony...don't cry, kiddo. It's okay. He ain't gonna hurt you again." I just shook my head and he hesitated for a second, then I felt him lay down beside me on the bed. "Come on, honey. It's okay." Him being nice just made it worse, my heart aching at the thought of losing the closest thing I'd ever had to a brother.

Sodapop pulled the blankets up, then slipped an arm under me, pulling me against his chest and rubbing my back. It was the closest I'd ever been to another person that wasn't hurting me, and I stiffened, waiting for it to hurt. It didn't, though. He just told me it was going to be okay again and again, rubbing my back and holding the back of my head until I finally let myself relax against him. I closed my fingers around the material of his shirt, holding on so tight I must have stretched it, praying this would keep him from leaving me...praying that I could just stay here.

I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, he hadn't moved, his head against the top of mine. I blinked a few times against his chest and tried to shift so my arm would stop hurting. Now that I was awake again, I could feel the ribs too...they hurt as bad as my arm almost. My throat was killing me and I was dying for some water, but I was scared to move. I was safe here...Sodapop would protect me. I mean, I knew he was only a couple of years older than me, but he'd still protect me. He was like my brother...he wouldn't let anyone hurt me. Maybe he wouldn't let them take me away.

There were voices in the hall and I shut my eyes, using the years of practice I had pretending to sleep. Aaron was less likely to bug me if I was asleep. The door to my room opened and someone paused, then stepped into the room. "Your brother is very good with him." A woman's voice murmured, and the voices came closer.

"Yeah…I think he trusts Sodapop more than any of us." Darry. That was Darry. The woman I still didn't know. I kept my face hidden against Soda's chest, then felt him shake a little. "Hey, Pepsi-cola." Darry murmured, and Soda muttered something from beside me, starting to sit up then pausing.

"Oh." He moved beside me and I reluctantly let my hand fall away...I needed them to think I was asleep if I was gonna hear anything good. Maybe I could figure out what was going on if I just listened. "Didn't mean to fall asleep. He was upset." He murmured. "Did you get to talk to them?" I wasn't sure who all he was talking too, but he sounded worried. Darry, however, sounded like he was smiling when he spoke.

"Yeah. I gotta talk to him before anything's official but...I think they're gonna say yes." Darry laughed a little...I wasn't sure about what. "Don't get too excited, little buddy. I still have to talk to him about it, you know."

"Darrel...are you sure about this?" The woman asked. "It's a big commitment, financially and for you personally." Darry was quiet for a second as I lay beside Sodapop, pretending to sleep and wondering what the hell was going on. Then, suddenly, a hand landed on my head, fingers raking gently through my hair.

"I wasn't...not at first." He admitted. "Sodapop's wanted it almost since the beginning but I was too scared, really. Then...then I was trying to get him to breathe again and he was just laying there...glory, it was like it was my baby brother lying there, dying on the floor." I didn't want to pretend to sleep anymore...I wanted to know what they were talking about. So I murmured something under my breath, flinching when that hurt my throat, then shifted on the bed. The hand was removed from my head and landed on my shoulder. "Ponyboy? You awake?" Darrel asked. I hummed in agreement, opening my eyes slowly and finding him sitting in a chair beside my bed, Sodapop on the bed beside me. "Hey, kiddo."

"Darry?" I rasped, rubbed at my eyes, then looking around and finding Mrs. Matthews by the door. I greeted her softly and she smiled, her eyes gentle.

"I just stopped by to see how you were doing, sweetheart." She explained, keeping her distance. I was kind of glad...enough people were close to me at the moment. It didn't bother me, but more people might. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." I lied. I didn't know her well enough to confide in her. Sodapop, who was sitting on the side of my bad arm, rubbed my shoulder, while Darry leaned in, staying real close.

"Good. Darrel, I'm going to go get the doctor...let him know he woke up. I'll see you later, Ponyboy." I nodded, watching her go, then turned to ask what was going on when Darry spoke first.

"You're gonna be in a cast for a while, but the doctor said your arm should heal just fine. They'll probably have to run tests, so you'll be in here for another day or two. Sorry, kiddo." I shrugged. At least it was a place to sleep.

"You didn't do it," I told him, my voice kind of dull. Resigned.

"No...how are your ribs?" That he had done, and I hurried to downplay it.

"Don't hurt, really." I lied. He obviously didn't believe me.

"They can give you some more pain medicine. I guess Sodapop told you…" I nodded, not wanting him to feel bad.

"You saved my life," I told him softly. "He would have killed me if you hadn't stopped him. I ain't worried about a couple of broken ribs." He grinned, patting my knee.

"I'm still sorry." He told me. "I was trying not to hurt you…"

"I know," I assured him. I didn't think Darrel Curtis would ever try to hurt me.

The doctor came in then, and Sodapop hopped off the bed. The doctor, who introduced himself but who was an adult man and therefore someone I automatically didn't trust, started by trying to reach for my throat. Immediately I jerked away, and Darry caught my shoulder.

"Easy, Pony. He ain't gonna hurt you. He's just gonna check your throat." I knew that...I mean...in my mind I knew that. He gave the doctor some kind of look I couldn't decipher and the man stood up straight, arms at his sides.

"My apologies. I should have told you what I was doing Mr. Davis." I hated that name. It reminded me too much of my uncle. Still, I nodded. "I just need to check your throat...how is it feeling?"

"Hurts," I told him simply as his cold hands pressed gently on my neck, making me wince. Next, he wanted to look inside my throat, so I let him, and he took some blood, messing with something in my IV and then leaving me alone with Darrel and Sodapop Curtis again. I knew what they were gonna say...that my uncle was in jail so the social workers were gonna come take me away as soon as I could get out of here. I stared down at my blanket, telling myself not to be a baby. Whatever it was, I was gonna live through it. Somehow I always survived.

Suddenly Darry took my hand and I jumped a little, looking over at him in surprise. People didn't take my hand. He just held it, though, his thumb resting lightly on the back of my hand. "You feel up to having a talk, kiddo?" He asked. I shrugged, staring back down at the blankets. Sodapop stood then, patting my good shoulder. I still didn't know how the hell I'd broken my arm. Had I fallen? Landed on it wrong? I couldn't remember any of it.

"I'm gonna go call the guys...let 'em know you're up. They've been worried." That alone kind of surprised me, but he was gone before I could really comment. Then I was alone with Darrel. That didn't worry me, but I didn't want to start crying in front of him like I had Sodapop.

"Did Sodapop tell you about your uncle?"

"Yeah." I told him dully, my throat hurting pretty bad, but I tried to ignore it. "He tried to kill me and now he's in jail."

"That's right. And you get that he won't have custody of you anymore, right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Is a social worker gonna take me to a boy's home, or can I get my stuff first?" I didn't know how this worked. I'd like to get my sketchbooks and stuff, but I wasn't sure I'd be allowed.

Darry sighed a little, squeezing my hand until I looked up at him. "That's one option...you could go to a boy's home. Maybe in foster care." My eyes heated up and I wanted to wipe them, but he was holding the only hand I could use. Sniffing a little, I fought to keep his gaze. "Or….you could come live with me."

Everything seemed to go quiet then...even the machine tracking my heart rate seemed softer. My eyes got wide and he gave a half smile...but he was real serious. Darrel was nice and everything, but he wasn't a prankster like Two-Bit. He took stuff seriously. I guess he had to with a little brother to look after. "Come...come live with...with you?" I stuttered. He nodded, calm as always. Sure of himself.

"Yeah."

"But...someone's gotta have custody until I'm eighteen, right? I can't just...I can't stay with you guys unless..." I trailed off, not about to suggest it. He nodded slowly, smiling

"Yeah. You're a minor, so...I would need to be your legal guardian." I just stared at him, blinking.

"My...my legal guardian?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"It's a lot to think about, I know." He squeezed my hand a little. "You'd be putting a lot of trust in me, and I get that's hard for you. I'd be like a parent... legally I'd be responsible for you, same as Sodapop, and..."

"You're offering to be my legal guardian." I interrupted, and he nodded slowly.

"Soda's been wanting to add you to our family for a while now...since your uncle came to our house looking for you...when you and Two-Bit were hiding in the bedroom. Said he always wanted a little brother." He smiled fondly at that. "And I've talked to our social worker...legally there's no issue. I already have custody of Sodapop and since the boy's homes are so crowded, they're always looking for people to take kids in. Our social worker looked over the paperwork…"

"You filled out paperwork?" I asked, not meaning to cut him off. But I couldn't help it. He'd filled out paperwork?

He blinked, then nodded, a little sheepish all of a sudden. "I mean, you would still have to say yes. I wasn't gonna force you to live with me or nothing." He assured me, looking unsure for the first time. "You've had some pretty awful experiences with guardians, but I wanted to try and get things started just in case. She looked over our finances and everything as we can make it work. I mean, things are gonna be a little tight...the guys might have to start bringing their own beer…" He chuckled a little, apparently uncomfortable with my silence. "If you want to say no, I'm not going to be offended. We'll come and visit and everything, I promise. We'll still be your friends, kiddo."

He'd filled out paperwork. Darrel Curtis took things seriously. He didn't play pranks, and even if he did, this would be beyond cruel, so I didn't think it was a joke or nothing. But...he'd filled out paperwork. He'd talked to a social worker. This wasn't just empty talk. He was offering to make me a part of his family. And not just his gang of friends. I would be like Sodapop...his actual blood family. He'd do anything for Sodapop, and I would be a part of that. "You don't have to answer now. You're gonna be in here for a couple of days and…."

"Please." I whispered. I didn't beg for things. I didn't even like to ask for things. But I'd ask for this.

"What, kiddo?" He asked, leaning in, looking worried all of a sudden. He was holding my hand still and people never held my hands. Sodapop had lay in bed beside me and held me and no one had ever done that neither. They shortened my name and play-fought with me. They'd throw an arm around me and never hurt me. Darry had saved my life. I couldn't remember it, but I had the broken ribs to prove it. They'd saved me from the socs and from Aaron and they'd protected me in between. I could be safe. For the first time ever, I could be safe. I felt a tear drip down my cheek and I took a shuddering breath.

"Please...can I come live with you?" His face softened and he put a hand on the back of my head, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand.

"Yeah, honey. You can." He put an arm around me then, leaning and holding me against his chest. I fought back the sob, but him rubbing my back made it harder.

We sat like that for a while before I finally managed to stop crying, unable to believe that I was actually safe...that I was actually going to have a family. He handed me a cup of water that I practically inhaled, the cool liquid heaven on my throat. "The social worker is gonna come by and talk to us, and we'll have some more paperwork to fill out." I opened my mouth, about to ask, then closed it. I was afraid to ask...afraid to make him change his mind, but he leaned in. "What's up, kiddo?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"Not nothing." He reprimanded softly. "If this is gonna work, you gotta be able to talk to me, Ponyboy. I get it if you don't totally trust us...not at first, but you have to speak up. Okay? I ain't your uncle. None of us are gonna do nothing to you just for asking questions." He was serious and I was so afraid, but I asked anyway.

"Are you sure? I mean...for it'll be almost four years." He knew what I was asking...I could see it in his eyes. Without hesitating, he nodded, looking me straight in the eye.

"I'm sure. 100%. You're going to be part of our family. And we're probably gonna fight sometimes, and Sodapop will eventually get on your nerves and you'll probably get on ours, but you're going to be family. And that's forever to us, Ponyboy. Heck, you can change your name if you want. You're going to be our little brother and nothing's ever gonna change that. You dig?"

Slowly, I nodded, feeling myself smile. "Yeah...I dig."


	33. What I Didn't Know

**What I Didn't Know**

I had to stay in the hospital for four more days, arm in a cast, oxygen tube under my nose. I spent a lot of the first two days sleeping, apparently too tired to do much else. I guess it was the drugs…I had an IV and could only guess what was in it. Usually, Sodapop or Darry were sitting with me, but they had to work sometimes and I was kind of out of it, so I got that they couldn't always be there. I didn't remember all of their visits anyway. I remembered asking Darry to keep me though…asking him to let me live with him. And every once in a while, I would feel a little embarrassed, but none of them ever made a big deal of it, at least, not in a bad way.

After a couple of days I woke up and Steve was sitting in a chair by my bed, flipping through a textbook, Johnny at his side reading a novel. I couldn't see the cover and was too tired, my limbs too heavy, to try and get a better look. So I just waited for one of them to look up and talk to me, or to fall back asleep…whichever came first.

"Hey, Pony!" Johnny was the first to look and I grinned at him, still feeling kind of out of it. Nothing much hurt except my throat as long as I stayed still, but I knew that if I started moving, everything would hurt more.

"Hey, guys. What are you doing here?"

"You kidding? Darry's got us on a rotation." Steve told me, reaching out and ruffling my hair. Too heavy and tired to dodge, I just sent him a mock-glare.

"Rotation?" I asked, not sure I'd heard him right.

"Yeah." He gave us a mock-stern look, wagging his finger in time with his words. "Don't you leave him alone, you hear? I don't want him waking up with nobody around." My face heated up a little and I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to admit that it was nice…fantastic even, to know that someone cared that much. I had to at least pretend to be tough.

"I'd be fine. You guys ain't gotta say." I told him, wiping my eyes and yawning a little, flinching when it hurt my throat. I supposed I still had the bruises all around my throat and it ached. I remembered his hands around my throat…just flashes of memory. I didn't want to remember.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would." Steve teased, not mean though. "Heard you were gonna stick around." I couldn't help the smile as I nodded, barely moving my head to mind my bruises.

"That's what Darry said." I tried to play it off with a shrug. He chuckled.

"I'm teasing kid. I more than heard. Darry's meeting with social workers about every day. Social workers, a counselor, the social worker that makes sure it's okay for Sodapop to stay…I've never seen their house that clean, even when their folks were alive."

I blinked at him, more surprised than anything. "Just so they could keep me?"

"Yep. Apparently it's harder to keep a kid that ain't related to you. But Darry's determined, I'll give him that. And we're all helping out." I blinked at him, not sure what to say. I mean, I knew they were nice guys. They'd been nothing but nice since I showed up. But this…this was more than nice.

I wasn't much fun for the rest of the visit, just nodding along to whatever Steve and Johnny talked about until Steve told me to go back to sleep. I did close my eyes, leaning back against my pillow, but I couldn't sleep for my thoughts running in circles. My own mother hadn't wanted me. She'd made that real clear. Not my grandfather or my uncle neither. They'd all done everything they could to make sure I knew it too, to know that it was charity keeping me from being homeless, and lots of times I'd thought that being homeless might be better. If it had been up to them to keep the house nice and to treat me good in order for a social worker to let me stay, I'd have been shipped off to a boy's home years ago.

By my last day in that place, I was ready to crawl out of my own skin, so sick of being in a bed just able to get to go to the bathroom. Johnny brought my homework after a while, or some of it…most just my textbooks for history and science so I could keep up with the readings. Apparently among the people Darry had spoken to were my teachers and principal, insisting that I be given extensions for my work. I hadn't seen him a whole lot since he was usually in meetings with people or working, but during one of his visits, he'd insisted that I not worry about the homework for a bit, just do the readings I could. He also insisted that I stop if my head started hurting and tell someone.

I had bristled just a little…and then immediately hated myself for it. It wasn't like anyone else had ever cared if I did my homework or not…or cared if I worked until my eyes were crossed and my head throbbing. Because I'd done that plenty, especially after a beating from Aaron. School was how I was going to get out, something I believed only about half the time. I'd have thoughts of myself at college, safe in a dorm, able to study whatever I wanted and get a job and live my life. Other times, I'd imagine myself in an early grave, probably before I turned sixteen, and then none of it would matter anymore.

Now someone cared that I did my work and cared that I not hurt myself doing it. And I had a feeling that he would care that I come home by a certain time and that I let him know where I was going when I stayed out late and pay attention if I got in trouble in school. But I guessed that was part of what having a family was like. I figured I would get used to it…either way, at least I had people that wouldn't kill me…wouldn't beat the shit out of me all the time and who I wouldn't have to clean up after and who actually wanted me. That was the thing I would remember when something irritated me or when I felt like I wanted to run…for the first time in my life, someone wanted me. And I wanted them.

Darry and Sodapop were the only ones at the hospital on my last day, both arriving around ten in the morning. I found out later that they'd told the others to stay away so they could talk to me. I'd been working on some of the readings for school and wondering if I could still be on the track team, and they'd walked in without hesitating, Sodapop ruffling my hair and Darry grinning, patting me on the shoulder. They'd brought me regular clothes the day before…clothes I hadn't recognized but hadn't questioned, a little too embarrassed to bring it up, so I was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt.

"Morning, Pone. How long you been up?" Sodapop wondered, nudging me until I scooted over, both of us ignoring Darry's soft reminder to be careful. He took a seat on my other side, a hand landing lightly on my knee.

"Couple of hours." I told him, grinning as I made room for him and putting my history book on the table next to me with my left hand. My right one was wrapped up in a cast and hard to use but didn't hurt so bad anymore. Mostly it was just my sides that hurt, and it wasn't easy to move without pulling at my broken ribs. Still, I'd had plenty of broken ribs and bruised ribs and everything in between and I felt like I was almost used to the pain. My throat still hurt too, even though it wasn't as bad. My voice sounded awful raspy and rough, sometimes breaking. The doctors had me drinking a lot of water and had told me not to talk to much so I could rest my throat and voice.

"How come?" Soda asked, frowning like he was worried too.

"Just woke up…couldn't get back to sleep." I shrugged.

"How are you feeling?" Darry asked, squeezing my knee as he sat forward.

"I'm fine," I assured Darry who obviously didn't believe me. I could tell because his face didn't change, except for his eyes that narrowed just a little like he was getting a closer look at me.

"What still hurts?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"Nothing much."

"Pony, just tell him," Sodapop advised from my side, grinning a little, but his eyes were serious. "Darry's like a cop or something. He won't stop asking until you tell the truth." His big brother rolled his eyes but didn't try to correct him. Sighing, I decided I'd better just tell the truth. I didn't want to give him any reason to regret taking me in.

"Um…I'm just sore. My ribs are the worst. And my throat hurts."

"How's the head?" He asked.

"Doesn't really hurt. It's just hard to focus." I gestured to the book at my side.

"You don't need to worry about homework just yet." Darry told me then, leaning back in his chair. "I already talked to your teachers. They're going to give you extensions on your work. And if you have to take some classes during the summer, we can deal with that. I don't want you to stress out over school right now." Surprised, I glanced over at Soda. I'd gotten the impression that Darry was pretty serious about school. He'd been real excited for me when I'd skipped a grade.

"How am I gonna get scholarships if I don't do any homework?" I asked, grinning a little to let him know I was kidding, and he relaxed a little, grinning himself.

"We'll get you caught up, don't worry about that." He crossed his arms as Sodapop draped an arm around my shoulders, keeping quiet at my side, but managing to be comforting without even saying anything. "The paperwork's all filled out and the social worker signed off on everything…they'll be visiting, probably every month, maybe a little more often, so we'll have to be sure to stay out of trouble." He glanced at Soda with a wry expression. "And the doctor said we could take you home today."

I perked up at that, eyes widening. "Seriously?" The doctor hadn't told me that! In fact, the guy hadn't told me much of anything. Neither had the nurses. He smiled a little at that and Sodapop squeezed my shoulder.

"Yeah. You'll need to stay in bed for a few more days, but there's no reason you can't do that at home." Home. It hit me again that I had one of those. A real home. A safe home. "Two-Bit and Steve went ahead and put your stuff in boxes since the landlord for the place next door wanted to rent it out again. The boxes are all in your room. I think the landlord threw out all of Aaron's stuff but if you wanted any of it…" I shook my head, effectively cutting him off.

"No. I don't want any of it." I didn't even really want my own stuff from that place…there was barely anything worth having. Just some clothes I'd stolen money for or that I'd outright stolen from Aaron. A few books. The rest, the old ratty clothes and the embarrassingly old backpack…the single picture I had of my actual family, of my grandfather, mother, and uncle, back from years ago, from before I'd even been born, tucked into one of the books. I hadn't looked at it in almost a year. Didn't want to look at it. I wanted to throw it into a fireplace to put a cigarette to it and watch it go up in flames. Three people who'd hated me, each in their own way. What the hell did I want with them?

"That's fine. We got you some new clothes…couldn't afford much, but you'll have enough for now. If you need more, you can steal some of Soda's stuff. He's got some old stuff that ought to fit you." He went on, not giving me time to open my mouth and argue. "You can use Soda's backpack too…it's not new but it's newer than yours."

"Yeah, I barely ever used it." Sodapop put in with a grin that I had to return.

"If you need anything else, just let me know and we'll figure it out."

"Darry, you ain't gotta..." He held up a hand, cutting me off.

"I'm your guardian, so, actually, I do. The State requires it." He was half-smiling when he spoke, softening his words. Then he leaned in again, lowering his voice and touching my leg again. "I knew what I was getting into when I decided to do this, Pony. I knew you'd need stuff like clothes. You don't have to worry about it, okay?"

I don't know if he knew what he was asking. Don't worry. It was almost a funny thought. I always worried. Worried about pissing Aaron off and worried about socs and worried about school and worried about how bad the next beating was going to be. Worried about getting out. How was I supposed to just stop? Just stop worrying and accept that all of a sudden I had two new family members who had taken me into their homes and who would be buying me clothes and school supplies and not beating me up. "Pony?" Sodapop asked from my side, leaning forward to look me in the eye.

"Yeah?" I muttered, not sure how to answer. If he kept having to buy me things, would he change his mind? I knew that kids were expensive. My grandfather had sure told me that plenty of times. They didn't have that much money to start with, and if they had to pay for stuff for me now…what if he changed his mind? Could you do that? Surely they could? Then it would be off to a boy's home after all. "I can get a job or something," I told Darry, hating how weak my voice sounded. Immediately he shook his head, though.

"No. No way. You ain't getting a job." He told me, voice firm. I flinched a little, dropping my eyes, and he went on. "Ponyboy, let me worry about the money, okay?"

"What's wrong, Pony? " Sodapop asked, and it surprised me that he immediately knew that something else was wrong. For someone I hadn't known for all that long, he knew me better than anyone. But I didn't know how to say it. Didn't know how to put it into words.

"I don't want to cost you guys money," I told them instead, figuring that was the closest I could get.

"You ain't gotta worry about that." Darry insisted, voice kind of hard like he could convince me that way. I stared down at my hands that sat limply in my lap, and he sighed softly. "Hey." I looked up then, surprised at how quickly the firmness…the hardness, seemed to disappear. He was back to soft. Understanding. The guy I'd met in the first place who'd carried me into his house after those socs had hurt me and who'd been there every time I'd needed him. Who I'd run into that first day, slamming against him like a brick wall and nearly falling onto my but, but who'd caught me. Who, I realized, would always catch me. "I want to do this, Pony. I want to be your guardian. That means paying for stuff and making sure you don't make yourself sick doing too much homework and keeping an eye on you. Giving you a place to live and clothes to wear. Both of us want that. We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't."

I wanted to say that I couldn't know that…that every other guardian I'd had hadn't wanted me. That they'd done the bare minimum, reminding me at every turn that they didn't want me. Didn't want the responsibility or the bills or the trouble. Didn't want me. But I didn't. That was something I kept to myself for a long time...it wasn't until almost a year later when I pulled out that picture of my family and Sodapop found me sobbing in my bedroom, that I told him that…that I was still afraid. That I still waited for Darry to get tired of me.

Every fight for almost a year…every little argument, every time I felt like I had disappointed them or irritated them, my chest would clench and I'd be flooded with the fear that this was it. That they were going to come to their senses and realize I was poison. Useless. Worthless. One of those times, after a loud fight with Darry where I would accuse him of smothering me and he would accuse me of being a brat, I would stand in the bathroom for almost an hour, his shaving razor in my shaking hand, until he would bust in, grabbing my wrist almost too tight and throwing the razor across the room. Then he'd put his arms around me and squeeze so tight I would think I might suffocate, his cheek on my head and his tears dripping into my hair.

"Don't you dare." He'd whisper. "Don't you ever fucking dare." He would sob the words, voice cracking. "I ain't gonna lose you like that. Don't make me lose someone else." And from then on, every time we'd fight, and every time I'd feel like I needed to run or end it all, I'd think of his lips on my head and him begging me not to do that to him and how Sodapop had snuck into my bedroom later that night, pulling me into his arms and begging me to talk to him if I ever started thinking like that. And I promised. It was a promise I would keep for the rest of our lives.

I didn't know any of that in the hospital bed. I didn't know that they'd never get tired of me, that I was as good as blood to them. I didn't know that less than a year later, I'd change my name, getting rid of 'Davis' and everything it represented and taking on 'Curtis' instead. On that day, Sodapop would tell me how much their parents would have loved me, and Johnny would give me a copy of Gone With the Wind with my new name written on the inside cover that he'd bought somewhere or swiped…didn't matter. All I knew was that for the first time, I had the chance at a real family and I didn't want to mess that up.

Darry and Sodapop took me home as soon as the doctor cleared me. I couldn't remember the doctor's name, but he told me to stay in bed for another day or two and hold off on going back to school. I'd have to get another physical before I could run track again, which I thought was dumb but one look at Darry's face told me not to bother arguing about it. I was too tired to even think about running, though, so I didn't have a lot of time to dwell on it before I fell asleep in my new room.

I didn't go back to school until the next week, and even then, my teachers only gave me some of my work. I guess Darry talked to them…he could be scary when he needed to be, and the principal seemed to like him real well. The man had even pulled me into his office the day I'd come back, telling me he hoped I was feeling better and to take my time with my homework. It was a huge difference from the way he'd acted when my uncle had first enrolled me in school, but I just thanked him and went to class.

Steve and Two-Bit stuck real close for my first week. Johnny too. At lunch, they usually gave me a ride to see Sodapop who'd give me a sandwich, but once or twice I stayed in the library with Johnny. We read together and worked together on our homework, and in gym class, Steve made sure we were always partnered up if we were doing something that called for partners, otherwise he just stayed right by my side. When I asked him about it, he just rolled his eyes.

"You're Sodapop's kid brother. I ain't gonna risk nothing happening to you. He'd kill me." So I left it at that. I didn't mind...it was good to have them around, especially when the Socs came around trying to bug me. The guys put a stop to that real fast.

Dallas came by lots during the first week or two, always laughing and telling jokes, but I heard him talking real quiet to Darry, both of them glancing at me solemnly. I didn't ask. Didn't want to know what they were muttering about, and when they started, Sodapop or Johnny would usually pull me away and keep me distracted, like I wasn't going to notice. I didn't mind. I didn't want to think about anything they could be worried about. I was sure it had something to do with Aaron. I never wanted to think about him again. Of course, I would think about him. Dream about him. Have a panic attack or two about him. I just didn't know that yet.

I was getting caught up. Slowly but surely. Science and math first, because those were my worst subjects and I wanted to get them out of the way. Then history. As I sat in my bedroom by the window, watching Sodapop and Steve toss a football back and forth on a Saturday afternoon, I thought about my last assignment for the day.

Write a theme about something. Pretty vague, but after missing school so much, I had to make sure it was a good one. Maybe Darry was right…maybe I could get a scholarship. Then I'd go to college, get a good job, and start paying my new family back for everything they'd done for me. I didn't know it, but I would. And Darry would be there, throwing his arms around me and spinning me around and telling me over and over how proud he was of me. Then it would be Sodapop's turn. Then the other guys, ending with Dallas who would punch me in the arm and tell me I was a smart kid.

Out front, a moving van pulled up, and I felt my eyes heat up. He was gone. He was really gone and I'd never have to see him or set foot in that house again. That, too, was true. I'd never step into that house again. They'd brought all my stuff over and I'd left the furniture and Aaron's stuff. I'd never even look into that house again, or really talk to the young couple who would move into the house I'd nearly died in.

"Pony?" I jumped a little, turning to face Darry who was leaning in my doorway, eyebrow cocked. "You okay?"  
"Yeah…yeah. Just, uh…gotta write this paper." I told him, holding up the sheet where I'd written down the assignment. He nodded, grinning a little.

"I'm gonna go ahead and start lunch. Thought I'd grill out before it gets too cold. Burgers okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good. You need help?"

"Nah. Finish your paper, kiddo." He threw me a grin, then headed back to the kitchen. Staring down at the paper for a moment, I felt the corners of my mouth turn up into a smile. There was so much I didn't know. But I knew what I was going to write for that theme, so that was a start. Picking up my pencil, I wrote my name in the top corner of the notebook Darry had bought me, then on the top line, the word, 'Stray.' Moving to the first line, I started writing, hoping to finish before the burgers were done.

'I'd only been here a few hours and already it was starting. Of course, I hadn't expected much different. He wasn't about to change just cause he'd found a new job. New town, same Aaron.'

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story!


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